


it's not easy to be happy (get away with it)

by freezerjerky



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Requited Love, Sexual Content, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-08 19:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15937004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: “You’re not obligated. I mean- what kind of jerk would I be if I expected the default to be reciprocity. Just because you’re gay it doesn’t mean you gotta be into every not-straight person around you.”“I’m aware, Newton. But I think I’m ready to consider the possibility.”Newton nearly chokes on his coffee, immediately placing the mug down and hitting his chest to make sure he’s not going to die from shock and coffee in his lungs.“Hermann.”





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A new long one from me! This idea came to me the same night I finished posting my last longer fic, so they just keep coming.
> 
> There aren't any extensive notes about this one, just make sure to read the tags!
> 
> Title is from "Haywired" by Ed Harcourt

Newton’s been avoiding him. It's been three days since they drifted and effectively saved the world but Hermann’s only passed Newton in the hall twice. Both times he gave Hermann a smile and then turned to look the other way. They were all smiles in celebration in LOCCENT, after Mako and Raleigh emerged triumphant, but since those few shining moments things have been tense.

Hermann understands why, objectively. The issue is he feels tethered to Newton in a new way, not just as lab partners and, dare he say it, friends, but as drift partners. Co-conspirators. Two men who have stared down something immense and won. He is loath to admit it, but he needs Newton in his life. No one else will ever understand him the way Newton does now, and even before. The bond they have is deep, forged in steady work and war. Now that there's peace, Hermann still craves it, the current of anxious Geiszlerian energy that's as normal as breathing in his life.

They haven't exactly been told they're out of jobs, but the implication is there. The world has been saved and neither of them are doing research that can't be done elsewhere. Hermann doesn't really know where elsewhere is, but he feels the urge to discuss this with Newton, to plan their future as a unit. This is blatantly unfair to Newton, he knows this, but it still feels like the right choice. He wants to chase this connection they have to the ends of the Earth.

So despite the feeling in his pit of stomach that he cannot place he seeks out Newton. (Guilt? Pity? Empathy? Neither of these things are the correct feeling.) He finds him in the most obvious of places, the lab, sorting through the remaining kaiju samples. Of course he's concerned about what will happen with his work. Hermann's blessed that so much of his life's work is digital or in print and not the dead flesh of dangerous things. 

“Newton,” Hermann begins in lieu of a greeting. His tone is softer than he intended. Will Newton think he pities him? “I would like to speak to you briefly, if you have the time.”

“I really don't have the time right now, dude.” Newton has his gloves on and he holds up a bit of spleen for good measure. Hermann hates that he knows that the thing Newton holds is a spleen.

“You've been avoiding me for several days and we need to talk.”

He strides forward, standing at the edge of their yellow line. Hermann refuses to overstep the boundary now, which is foolish when they've been in each other's heads. Know secrets that no one else could possibly know.

Newton bites his lip and then tosses the spleen down. “What do you want to talk about, Hermann?” The anger would be more palpable if he didn't have a headlamp on his head.

“I've been receiving several job offers since my involvement in the operation became publicized. And I'm sure the same has happened to you.”

“Haven't really checked my emails, but sure.”

Almost instinctively, Hermann knows that he's lying. He's not sure if it's the ghost drift or the impact of knowing Newton for so long.

“I thought I'd inquire if anyone is asking you about hiring both of us.” Hermann knows they are, because about every other email he's received has Newton copied on it.

“Yeah, I guess.” Newton pauses, looks at Hermann for a long moment, then picks up his spleen. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Why is that?”

“You know why, dude!” Newton exclaims shrilly. “Have you come here to dig around in my personal life a bit? Mock me?”

“That is not my intention. I merely was asking if you had any interest in continuing our working relationship.” Hermann sniffs and rests both hands on his cane. It's a pose he's taken on in an attempt to seem imposing, but he just looks stiff and artificial.

“You're seriously asking me this? After what you happened? After what you saw?”

“Newton, I value our...friendship very much and I would hate to lose it. I will not pursue this further if it's not what you wish.”

Newton's hand hovers over his face, like he wants to wipe it but he thinks the better of it. 

“I'll think about it, alright? I'm not moving to the fucking mountains in Bavaria, understand?”

“I have no desire to return to my hometown, which you know full well.”

Whatever gaps Newton had left to fill about Hermann's personal life, his history, have been filled by the drift. This full knowledge has been a gift and a curse and Hermann supposes it would be better for them if some secrets were kept secrets.

“I want to go back to Boston,” Newton declares, placing a hand on his hip. Hermann grimaces as some murky substance spreads on Newton’s white shirt. “Have my old job back.”

“I know you wish to return to Boston.” Hermann also knows that Newton doesn’t actually want the exact life he had before. “I will consider that option.”

The part of him that feels guilty supposes it’s best this way. He can give Newton as much of the ideal life as he wants. But there’s ego in that thought, ego that Newton would consider Hermann his ideal in any capacity. Hermann is someone who has happened to him, been thrust upon him.

“And then what?” Newton’s face contorts for a moment into something that’s terrifying raw, it’s like a singular paused moment of anguish. “We live our lives in our side by side apartments and meet over coffee in the student union every morning?”

“Approximately something like that, yes.” Hermann clenches his jaw. He’s hurting Newton in a way he did not intend to.

“Because, dude, I’m not being dramatic more than I usually am but I can’t sit by and watch-” Newt shakes his head, sets his own jaw and inhales deeply. “I want you to be happy, and I want me to be happy. If we’re friends, I’d assume you want the same.”

“I will not press the issue, Newton.” Hermann takes a step back, firmly on his side of the lab. He’s crossed a proverbial line and the literal step will do little to remedy this, but it’s all he can do in that moment.

“I told you I’d think about it and I meant it. I’m- it’s not black and white, alright? It’s not all one thought or one feeling, but I’ve still got to respect that big one and what it means and you’re just really not the person I can talk to about it.”

Hermann’s not really one for human emotions or processing them as well as he’d like to. He tries, that’s the crux of it, but every time he stumbles it feels like he’s set back a dozen years.

“Would you-” He pauses, adjusts his thoughts for a moment. “This feels like a situation for a hug.”

Newton laughs, a bitter laugh that sounds oddly too much like a sob. “Touching me right now is only going to make this worse.”

Of course, Hermann realizes this makes perfect sense. He’s the problem in this equation, not the solution. The urge to tell Newton that he can solve equations easily rises to his throat but he knows he can’t fix this. He can’t make Newton feel any differently towards him.

“I’m sorry, Newton. I’ll leave you alone.”

Newton looks him in the eye for a moment, has a look like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. He’s said enough.

“Thank you, Hermann,” is what he does say. There’s something genuine in his smile, even if it’s mostly forced. “For not throwing this in my face, for still wanting to be around me.”

“There are far stranger things about you, rest assured.” Hermann returns the smile, his with a similarly hollow feeling.

“I don’t really think it’s strange.” Newton furrows his brow, but then goes back to his work. 

The discussion is done. Hermann hopes they can move on from this. Newton isn’t necessarily saying or doing anything to create this odd feeling, but it’s still something Hermann knows he doesn’t have to feel. The past ten years of their lives, Hermann’s never thought of this as a possibility, and he’s never really acted in a way to foster these feelings. Objectively this is all clear to him, but there’s part of him that wishes he read the signs better. That he saw through Newton and his absurd insistence on dating a series of people who were ill suited for him, through the banter and the jabs. Maybe he could have made it clearer that this was not a reciprocal thing.

Because that’s what it comes down to, at the crux of it. Newton is in love with him and he certainly doesn’t love him back.


	2. how I wish you could see the potential

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter/part will be titled after a song "featured" in the section. Part 1 is "I Will Possess Your Heart" by Death Cab for Cutie

Their relationship never really regains its same animation. This is partly from the peace of a mutual understanding, two minds that understand each other in such a profound way. The other part is that there’s always going to be a hesitance between them, no matter how hard either will try to will it away.

But they go to Boston. Hermann buys a car. Newton buys a vespa. They don’t have side by side apartments but they do live in the same building. It’s actually purely by chance, though Hermann supposes it can’t fully be coincidence. They were two men with similar incomes hoping to find a place to live within an easy proximity to MIT. Very often they do meet for coffee in the Student Union in the morning. Sometimes when it rains, Hermann drives Newton to work in his new car and they bicker over what to listen to on the radio for most of the drive to work, and then Newton will buy Hermann his coffee as repayment for the ride.

It’s one of those days and they’re on their way home, the rain is persistent during these storms. Hermann grips his steering wheel in the precise places his father taught him to and Newton switches off the talk radio he was listening to some channel that promises songs from the past three decades. The sound is staticy but Hermann thinks he can pick up Death Cab for Cutie playing. He hates the part of him that recognizes this band, this Newton part that’s seeped into his brain.

Newton shifts back when the audio comes in more clearly, humming along with the song. He leans against the window, watching the buildings pass. Hermann watches him out of the corner of his eye, always fearful to look off the road ahead for too long. This is a metaphor for his life, maybe, the things he’s missed in his peripherals because he’s spent so long looking straight ahead.

The song wails out a bit too boldly and then the radio cuts back out to static. Newton doesn’t change the station for the rest of their ride home. 

“Do you want to come to my flat for some tea?” Hermann asks, once they're safely in his parking spot. He hasn't unlocked the door yet, so Newton is captive to the question.

“Only if you promise not to yell at me for how much sugar I put in it.”

Hermann's flat is on the second floor. On days when the rain is not irritating his leg, he takes the stairs to his apartment. Today, he takes the elevator. Normally Newton would take the stairs and race him, but today he takes the elevator with Hermann. That's how Hermann knows something's wrong.

Tea for Newton usually means Hermann's good tea completely doused with sugar. He always tries to drink it too quickly, Hermann swears he can feel his own upper lip burn with the sensation.

“Is something bothering you, Newton?” Hermann asks, once they've both settled at his kitchen table with their tea.

“It's Dr. Avery.”

“Your girlfriend.”

“It's been three dates, she's not my girlfriend.”

Dr. Avery is a perfectly lovely woman who works in the Computer Science department. She's very bright and a few years older than Newton. A perfect steadying influence on him. Hermann's been trying to bring himself to feel something like jealousy, but he doesn't.

“And what's the problem?”

“No spark, I guess. It's just a bummer when it's a perfectly great person and there's no spark there.”

Hermann’s mouth suddenly feels very dry and he gulps his tea. Too hot or not, he needs it in that moment.

“I'm sorry you don't feel that spark.”  _ I'm sorry I don't feel that spark,  _ he wants to say. Because he knows those unwanted feelings are still there. 

“I just-” Newton wipes his hand across his lower face. “Dating didn't used to me this hard- don't give me that look, Hermann this isn't a you problem. I just mean that it's so mundane now that the world isn't ending.”

“I haven't been dating, so I wouldn't know.”

That's a lie. Hermann's been on several mediocre first dates and had one invigorating one night stand. Newton probably knows he's lying but he feels awful about sharing the truth.

“I don't mind if you date, Herms.” Newton frowns and Hermann almost believes him.

“I don't think it matters if you mind or not, does it?”

It shouldn't, but it does to Hermann. For better or worse, Newton is the most important person in his life. He loves him, just not in the way that Newton wishes for.

“No, it doesn't. But I'm letting you know anyway,” Newton answers shakily.

“I'm content with my life as it is.”

He lays his hand on top of Newton's where it rests on the table. Newton doesn't touch him anymore, the way he'd used to guide him around or tug on his arm to direct him. To say he misses it would be an understatement, but he understands the reasoning.

Newton withdraws his hand as if Hermann's poured the scalding tea on it.

 

The call comes at 1 am on a Saturday morning, the absurd 80’s song Newton set for his calls blasting in Hermann’s ear. He grabs the phone almost immediately, adrenaline pumping.

“Hello? Newton?” he asks, trying to hide the frantic fear. Surely nothing is wrong.

“Hey,” someone who is not Newton answers. “Your friend is at Gilly's Bar. I'm the bartender, he's fine, just a bit far gone and his other friends have left, so I thought I'd just try to call someone.”

“Oh, thank you for letting me know. I'll be on my way.”

Newton had gone for drinks with some colleagues hours ago. Earlier in the evening he was texting Hermann so it's no surprise he was the first contact on his phone. Or maybe Newton gave the bartender a name.

Either way, Hermann slips out of his pajamas and into day clothes as quickly as he can. Newton doesn't drink often and rarely more than a bottle of beer or two at a time so his tolerance is low, his colleagues likely didn't know this and he likely didn't share that information with them.

When Hermann arrives at the bar, Newton's sitting on the front stoop, trying to talk to the very large bouncer. He always looks so small in moments like this, when he's unguarded. Hermann feels a strange desire to hold him, or tuck him into bed. He'll likely have to do just that.

“Newton,” Hermann starts, staring down at him. “I can’t help you stand very easily, so I hope you can get yourself up.”

Newton scowls and clutches the wall to assist in standing. “I got it, Herms. I’ve been standing for a long time.” Hermann hopes the night air has sobered him up somewhat.

A patron steps out of the bar and the noise of the evening spills out onto the street for a few brief moments. Hermann knows he’s getting old because he cannot understand the appeal of drinking or doing anything besides sleeping at this time of night.

“The car’s just around the corner. I’m hoping you don’t feel like retching.”

Hermann takes care to walk beside Newton, his free hand hovering above his lower back, just in case he needs to keep him steady. Thankfully, Newton seems to have retained the ability to walk for the most part, and he only stumbles once on their journey. On the ride home, he goes on a tirade about the need for all gender bathrooms because it’s “2025 and the world cannot possibly still be that shitty.” Hermann agrees, but he pretends to be neutral on the issue to hear Newton’s finer talking points. 

He does help Newton into his apartment and marches him into his room. When he’s certain that Newton’s going to lay down and not wreak havoc, he fetches two painkillers and a glass of water to leave on his bedside table. Newton reaches for his wrist as he’s leaning over to do so, capturing it in his hand. Hermann’s gaze turns to him, sitting in his bed wearing an old ratty tshirt and his boxers.

“Can I help you, Newton?” Hermann offers.

“Thank you for being in my life.” He drops Hermann’s wrist as abruptly as he grabbed it. “Taking care of me. With the rides and the tea and this.”

“Someone needs to watch out for you.”

“I want to watch you. Out for you.”

“I do a well enough job on my own.”

“No, I want to take care of you.” Newton puts his hands on his face, pushing his glasses out of the way. It’s rather dramatic and he’s very clearly crying, but Hermann also knows that being drunk makes Newton more prone to crying. A verbal answer would not satisfy, so instead Hermann takes the glasses from his face and folds them before laying them on the nightstand next to the water and painkillers.

“Try to sleep,” Hermann instructs. “If you need me, I’ll be just downstairs in my apartment.”

There’s a sniffle and then Newton looks up at him, his eyes are rimmed red and he looks oddly splotchy. He nods feebly.

“I’m really not worth that much of your thoughts, Newton,” Hermann adds. “That brilliant mind of yours has better things to think about.”

“I don’t want this. You act like I want this.”

Hermann sighs. He’s not acting like anything, he doesn’t presume anything Newton wants that he doesn’t tell him. An idea, though, starts to take form in his head. It’s easy to want what you can’t have. Or maybe it's easy to not know what you want until you've tried it. He's not sure who this idea will benefit.

“Let me help you not want this,” he states, a bit pre-emptive. “Potentially.”

“I'm too drunk to listen to this.” Newton slides into bed and Hermann is grateful for this. It gives him time to think.

 

Hermann's had one serious romantic partner in his life. Adam was blond and broad and he played rugby in his free time. As a young man, Hermann liked exactly this sort of man usually, rough and tumble sorts with smoothly charming voices and a propensity towards spending time at the gym. Very few people who know Hermann as he is now would believe this, let alone that this sort of man would be interested in  _ him _ .

Newton knows this, though. He'd known before the drift, Hermann showed him pictures one night when they sat in Newton's quarters drinking cheap beers. The laughter that filled the room upon seeing the pictures was loud, overbearing, distinctive to one Newton Geiszler and one alone. Hermann's cheeks had turned pink with some odd shame but he understands now what Newton was feeling. Sorrow. Inadequacy. Lack of understanding. At the time, he’d taken the pictures back abruptly, held them close so his memories couldn’t be mocked.

Adam had not been a perfect partner by any means, but Hermann did love him. He was soft spoken and kind and while he didn’t share Hermann’s passions for numbers or science or the countless stars blinking in the sky, he supported them and could hold a conversation. But he remembers that he did not always love Adam, how he’d stared rather blankly at him during his awkward first pick-up attempt, how he called Karla frantically after each date for the first month because he wasn’t sure why he was seeing someone at all. Karla had claimed Hermann suffered from something called “emotional constipation” which he did not appreciate, but it helped and he was thankful for his sister when he found himself in Adam’s bed for the first time.

The only conclusion Hermann can draw from his past is maybe he needs to make himself intentional in his actions to fall in love. Maybe it’s alright if it’s not something that just happens at a bar or out of a friendship. He’s not particularly keen on falling in love with Newton, that’s to say he’d be content to go sometime longer without being in love with anyone at all. But if it’s going to be anyone, who not someone he already cares for dearly? Someone he loves as a friend, as a comrade, as a kindred spirit?

Besides, objectively Newton is not unattractive. Sure, he doesn’t fit Hermann’s tried and true preference of tall and broad men, but he’s not without his merits. He has a full head of hair and, despite the tendency to stick up at odd angles, it seems like it would be pleasant to run his fingers through it. While Newton is short, he’s solidly built in a way that seems reassuring and comfortable. His face is handsome enough, and Hermann has always found freckles charming.

Sexual attraction, he thinks as he slips into his shoes, is a more complicated matter. He hasn’t allowed himself to think of Newton in a sexual context, because he likes to compartmentalize the people in his lives as best as he can. He does have all the aforementioned physical attributes, but Hermann’s not entirely sure if they can translate to that chemistry between two bodies. He’s sure when they’re down to it (if they’re down to it), he wouldn’t have any issues. 

It’s nearly noon and he’s hoping Newton is awake and functional. He cannot imagine that he’s still sleeping, but Newton is nothing if not surprising. Naturally, when he arrives on the fourth floor, at Newton’s door, it’s answered by a version of his friend who looks very hungover and half asleep, still in his boxers and tshirt from the night before.

“I’m assuming you are still feeling unwell,” Hermann steps inside, despite not being particularly invited. 

“I’ve been better.” Newton rubs the back of his neck. “Something up?” He steps over a few piles of books on his floor to sidestep to his couch. Hermann knows the footpaths by now to follow him. The traditional clutter of Newton’s life has taken on an odd sense of organization, his junk placed in neat piles that take up more space than necessary. Hermann takes full credit for this influence on him.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Hermann asks, once he’s settled on the couch, his cane across his lap.

“Hm?” Newton hums into a mug of coffee he’s picked up from the coffee table. 

“I’ve been thinking about the...nature of our relationship.”

“Hermann, dude. I’m sorry about the stuff I said last night- I’m trying really hard to not make that your business and that was a bit over the line.”

“It’s absolutely fine, Newton.” It’s fine enough, at least. “But I did want to talk about your regard for me.”

“Okay.” Newton screws up his face, like he’s bracing for impact.

“I do not feel the same way towards you, as you know. I believe I have spent the better part of our professional relationship compartmentalizing your place in my life, so I have never allowed myself to consider that possibility.”

“You’re not obligated. I mean- what kind of jerk would I be if I expected the default to be reciprocity. Just because you’re gay it doesn’t mean you gotta be into every not-straight person around you.”

“I’m aware, Newton. But I think I’m ready to consider the possibility.”

Newton nearly chokes on his coffee, immediately placing the mug down and hitting his chest to make sure he’s not going to die from shock and coffee in his lungs.

“Hermann.”

“I don’t want you to think this means I’ve developed feelings for you, I don’t want to give you unrealistic expectations of the reality of our relationship.”

“Be still my beating heart.”

“But I do believe if I’m given the chance to see you in a different light, maybe I could.”

“And if you don’t?” Newton asks, far too quietly.

“Then you will always have my friendship for the rest of your life.”

Hermann’s also aware that something like the inverse could happen, that’s partially what inspired this. It’s not unlikely that if Newton understands what it’s like to date Hermann, he’ll realize he doesn’t actually have feelings for him at all. It’s entirely possible he simply wants what he cannot have.

“What exactly are you proposing?” Newton asks.

“I want to take you on a date.”

Newton rubs a palm on his thigh, an anxious movement, a tic. Hermann wonders if he’s made him uncomfortable with his proposition. He says yes anyway.

 

They choose a simple enough date concept: dinner and a movie. Hermann drives them and pointedly goes to Newton’s door to fetch him rather than wait in the car and text him that he’s waiting for him, as he’ll do when giving him a ride to work. The restaurant they choose serves seafood and is marginally more expensive than the places they’d usually go to if they were just grabbing dinner. They’ve also made a reservation even though the restaurant is half empty, just to add to the date experience.

Newton sits across from him at dinner in his dress shirt and jeans that do not have holes in them. His hair is slicked back handsomely and he continues to look as nervous as a teenage boy at his first dance. This is probably too much pressure for poor Newton. When the waitress asked for their drink orders, Newton insisted on a bottle of wine for the table. (“The second cheapest,” he explained after the fact. “That’s a secret to get the best value.”)

Hermann pours the second glass of wine for himself, his hands seem steadier at the moment. Under ordinary circumstances, Newton is a bundle of nervous energy, but not this sort of nerves. He’s undaunted in social and interpersonal situations and the thought of Hermann making him nervous is almost laughable.

“Do you normally take your dates out to dinner?” Hermann asks as casually as he can. The wine is red and perhaps a bit sweeter than he likes, but it goes down smoothly.

“I guess?” Newton answers. “It’s not really my preferred date activity, to be honest, but it’s traditional. Doesn’t showcase how...eccentric I can be.”

“I often prefer to meet for drinks,” Hermann explains. “It’s easy to leave if things turn poorly early on, or to stay very late if needed. But I don’t mind something less traditional.”

“You’re not worried about an easy out tonight?” Newton’s smile is fond but uneasy.

“I am reasonably assured that I will enjoy an evening with you, Newton, regardless of the specifics of the outcome.”

Newton smiles at him, and digs back into his pasta dish. Even when attempting to be polite and a gentleman, Newton is a sloppy eater and will often talk with a mouthful of something or other. Hermann’s assessment of it has wavered over the years, starting with being downright disgusting. Tonight, interspersed with the nerves and the attempts to not be a disaster, he finds it absolutely endearing. Besides, Newt talking with a mouth full of spaghetti is more authentically himself than Newt wearing a shirt buttoned most of the way up when he doesn’t have to.

When they finish the dinner, Newton insists on order a slice of chocolate cake and, while Hermann likewise insists that he doesn’t want any dessert, the waitress brings two forks. To please Newt, he eats a few bites of the cake. It’s overly sweet and the raspberry sauce is tart, but there’s something pleasant about the intimacy of a shared dessert, the way they both grin when they attempt to skewer the strawberry at the same time. Hermann lets Newt have it, because he knows Newt doesn’t usually like to share his food.

“Do you still want to go to the movie?” Newt asks nervously, after he’s insisted that the check is delivered to him. There’s still about half a glass worth of wine in the bottle, but neither of them care to touch it.

“We bought the tickets, I don’t really see why we wouldn’t go.”

The movie they’ve chosen is some horror ordeal that Newton has chosen after Hermann insisted that he didn’t care what they saw. Hermann’s used to watching whatever movie Newton would like to watch. There’s always been a point of fascination for him in watching Newton react to movies, how passionate he is about their stories or their characters. Obviously Hermann’s understand the draw of fiction and enjoys a good book or tv series, but Newton approaches everything in his life with an unguarded passion.

While he doesn’t return that passion, the thought of that passion being turned to him certainly makes him feel warmer. Yes, he realizes as he stares at the screen ahead of him watching a young woman meet her untimely end, this is progress. Newton looks good in his date clothes, but Hermann prefers him in his regular things. Newton has many attributes Hermann finds appealing, physically and otherwise. He thinks, hopes he isn’t misleading himself, that he can see the potential of a developing attraction.

Halfway through the movie, Newton leans over as if he’s going to ask something but then thinks the better of it.

“Do you need something?” Hermann whispers.

“I was going to ask you the same thing. Something to drink?” Newton whispers back.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking, Newton. Enjoy the rest of your movie.”

“You can tell me, really.”

“Newton, please. Enjoy your movie.”

The frown that twists on Newton’s face is worrying, but mid-movie is not the time to fight. Sure, they may have caused rows in movie theaters in the past, but those days are behind them now. They know to keep the fights to the privacy of their personal spaces, and those fights are fewer and farther between.

Instead, he does what he’s learned from his parents’ relationship and waits until they’re safely bundled into the car to broach the issue. It’s less of a concern without four children bundled into the back of the car and it won’t make a scene in public.

“You’ve been causing yourself unnecessary stress all night,” Hermann begins, staring ahead, partially to concentrate on the road ahead, partially to avoid looking at Newton.

Newton’s fidgeting with the lowest button on his shirt and he looks up and over at Hermann.

“I don’t want to fuck this up, man,” Newton admits. “This is like...this is a lot of pressure. When things were just...the way they were, that was one thing. But this is a chance at something and I know it’s a rather slim chance but I still want to take it, but I’ve got to do it right.”

They’re at a stop sign and Hermann turns to look at him. Newton has always told him that he thinks he can’t maintain a relationship because he’s too much, that his partners cannot understand the multitudes that are Newton Geiszler. Hermann’s never once been afraid of those multitudes, not from the very first letter they exchanged over a decade ago.

“I had a great evening, Newton,” Hermann states, and it’s the truth. If he went on this exact date with anyone else, he’d easily go on a second with them. Perhaps he has a reputation of being a difficult man to please, but this is inherently untrue. At least for first chances.

“That’s usually what they say when they kiss your cheek at the doorstep and then don’t call you back for a few weeks.” Newton gives him a wry smile. “And then it’s just an apology.”

“Well now you’ve lost your doorstep kiss,” Hermann teases drily. “For the second date I’d prefer we tried something that you feel is more authentic for you, to be perfectly honest.”

“Second date,” Newton repeats the words, as though he’s not fully processing them.

“I don’t see why not. I had a good evening, I believe you had a good evening. It wasn’t...dissimilar from the nights we usually spend together, but it wasn’t exactly the same either.”

“You’re just saying that because I willingly shared food with you.”

“Not entirely, but that is a factor, yes. I didn’t realize you were so generous with your romantic partners, Newton.”

“I would have even let you have that strawberry if you asked, Herms. I’m a really good boyfriend.”

Hermann huffs out a laugh. He knows enough of Newton’s past and memories to know that Newton is not known for being a particularly good boyfriend. Coincidentally, Hermann wasn’t a particularly good boyfriend when he was one either. He’s developing this spark of a hope that if everything goes just right, they could be good together. This is a dangerous thought.

 

Newton does not get his goodnight kiss, but he does walk Hermann to his door. They share an awkward embrace and Hermann shuts the door after him, taking a moment to collect himself as he leans against it. He needs a cigarette. Or perhaps a pack of cigarettes.

First, he toes out of his shoes, leaving them on the shelf he keeps by his door for this purpose. The rest of his undressing is done with less care and he’s just in his undershirt and pajama bottoms when he steps to his window, opening it as he leans on the frame. He fumbles with his lighter for a few moments, then is given the bliss of the first drag of his first cigarette.

Usually, he seeks out the comfort of smoking when he’s stressed or anxious, but he’s feeling something else entirely. His world isn’t shaken and he’s not confused, it’s just an odd feeling in his stomach like he’s open to a potential for the first time in his life. Admittedly, while his resolution to potentially develop feelings for Newton was what inspired him to ask him on a date, he’d suspected another outcome entirely more likely.

Hermann’s one and only relationship, he recalls, ended because he was spectacularly bad at being in a relationship. Focused on work. Focused on his future. Not overly fond of romance or big gestures. Adam had simply realized that their relationship had reached its threshold and ended it in the gentle and kind way. Every attempt at a relationship since then had ended for similar reasons, often Hermann himself did the ending out of fairness to the person he was seeing. 

He hates, in that moment, Americans and their insistence on screening in their windows. He wants to stick his whole head out of the apartment window, breathe in the air and breathe out the smoke. He wants to imagine that he can look up and see the stars and maybe have the clarity that only the celestial can give.

More than the fact that he would be willing to date Newton, Hermann had assumed that upon the prospect of Hermann becoming a romantic partner, Newton would realize how incompatible they actually are. He could see how lackluster Hermann was when it came to public displays of affection or his tendency to choose to work late and miss date nights or the fact that he snores and drools and steals the blankets.

This thought seems cruel now, when he’s realized how well they could fit. When he understands from the way Newton couldn’t hold himself steady enough to pour him a glass of wine, or was too preoccupied with Hermann’s needs to watch a movie he’d been looking forward to that Newton wants to fit together so badly. The idea of making Newton fall out of love with him seems distasteful now, like there’s something inherently wrong with that. No one can stay in love unreturned forever, these feelings would fade on their own, but it doesn’t seem like the correct time.

Hermann braces himself against the window with his cigarette in his mouth, carefully pulling out the tabs to undo the screen. He doesn’t catch it in time and it clatters to the ground, or rather to the bushes that line the apartment beneath his. He pushes the window open a bit more to the right and rests his good hip against it, leaning out, staring up at the city sky. There’s no clarity in the expanse of it, but he thinks he can hear the faint sound of a guitar two stories up. Or maybe he’s hearing it through the remnants of his drift. Either way he knows it’s Newton playing and that puts his mind oddly at ease.


	3. it's just that it's delicate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter title is from "Delicate" by Damien Rice...you'll see how it's used in this chapter
> 
> this chapter is slightly shorter than most of the remaining ones will be!

Hermann’s in his office reviewing materials for his next class when there’s a knock on his door. The punctuation of the knock itself is enough of a tell that it’s Newton, so he makes a noise of assent and then Newton’s striding in with coffee in the next moment.

“What are your plans for this weekend?” Newton asks, before he can even pass the coffee over to Hermann.

He glances up from his papers, his glasses slipping off of his face when he moves. Newton’s in a henley and jeans, a look he’s recently adapted for his efforts teaching, after being reprimanded for his insistence on wearing band t-shirts, though he does still wear those on days he has labs.

“Nothing, currently.” It’s Thursday and they’d gone on their date the Monday before. They’d both agreed to not put too much thought into their actions and relationship outside of the time set aside for dates. The intention was to act natural, whatever may be considered natural for them at the time.

“Want to go out on Saturday?” The question comes surprisingly casually, given how nervous Newton was about everything only a few days prior.

“I don’t see why not. Do you have a specific plan in mind?”

“Well you wanted me to do this in the way that’s authentic for me, so I want to give you the authentic Newt Geiszler experience.”

“To clarify, this doesn’t involve blood or guts or anime, correct?”

“You said authentic, Hermann, if you don’t want what that really means for me-”

“Oh, shut up.”

Newton’s grinning, until he takes a sip of his own coffee and burns his tongue. Naturally, it’s too hot.

 

“Absolutely not, Newton,” Hermann says, staring at the helmet that Newton is currently offering him.

“It fits two people and the person who sold it to me said I was a very safe driver.” 

The helmet already affixed to Newton’s head makes him look absolutely ridiculous and charming in a sweet way. It’s decorated with stickers for some bands that have broken up years ago and a few catchy slogans and clearly branded designs. Really, it’s a sweet offer. Newton’s even insisted on purchasing a folding travel cane that they can pack away easily as they ride.

“I’ve seen you on the scooter,” Hermann retorts. “You take corners like you have no regard for your life.”

“Fortunately for you, I hold your life in the highest regard. Now put the helmet on.”

Hermann sighs and takes the helmet, slipping it onto his head. It’s crooked and Newt reaches up to adjust it.

“At least you care about safety,” Hermann comments.

“You look adorable in the helmet, Herms. That’s the only reason I’m asking you to wear this.”

“Noted.” Hermann gives a very poor attempt at glaring at him.

“Have you ridden a Vespa before?” Newton asks, moving to straddle the awful scooter.

“Once.” Hermann stands awkwardly by the Vespa. “On holiday in Rome.”

“Well, if you’re riding behind me you can either hold on to the seat or hold on to me, but just make sure you’re holding something.”

“Either hold on to the disaster man or his disaster scooter, noted.”

Hermann hooks his good leg over the scooter and hefts onto it. It takes a few moments to adjust himself comfortably. His first attempt is to hold onto the seat, but this seems awkward and uncomfortable. Instead, he rests his hands on Newton’s waist, giving a gentle squeeze.

“You uh- you good?” Newton asks and his voice sounds oddly tight. 

“I’m fantastic, Newton. Now can we please start our ride?”

It’s probably completely on purpose that Newton starts the ride a bit too fast, fast enough to make Hermann shout and hold on to Newton just a bit tighter. However, he soon finds a safe and normal speed and, despite an over eagerness to weave through cars, manages to control the scooter very well and very safely. Hermann’s not entirely sure of the end destination, but he took a painkiller before the ride and as long as his leg holds out, he could stay like this for hours.

Newton is warm and concrete in his arms and smells surprisingly pleasant. There’s the slightest musk of sweat but also a cologne that Hermann thinks may be new, or he may have not noticed before. It was dusk when they started and before long it’s properly dark and the city which seems so dingy in the daylight looks like something new, the lights are a bit like the stars that Hermann craves in his sky.

They stop outside of a pizza shop that sells pizza by the slice. When Newton slips off his helmet, his hair is an absolute mess, but some soft thing inside of Hermann doesn’t dare to fix his hair. It’s perfect the way it is. Newton offers a hand to him to help him off the scooter, which he gladly takes.

With his own helmet removed, Newton clearly bites back a laugh, but at least he has the kindness in him to reach out and adjust Hermann’s hair. In return Hermann does him the kindness of not commenting when his hand lingers for a moment or two longer than necessary.

The pizza is mediocre and lukewarm and they sit side by side in the cramped restaurant as they eat their two slices each. Hermann dabs the grease off the slices with a napkin but Newton doesn’t seem impacted by the amount of grease. If anything he finds it to be part of the appeal. They sit in the booth for about half an hour after they’re done eating, arguing over whether pineapple belongs on pizza or not and only leave when the teenagers working the register glare at them for taking up space for customers who have not yet eaten.

Newton takes them to a bar only a few blocks away that has walls full of board games and serves very pretentious craft beers. The lights are dimmed sufficiently low and Hermann is skeptical that it’ll be enough light to venture playing any of the games, but this is fully Newton’s intention. Hermann drinks something that tastes like sour cherries and Newton insists that they play Monopoly with two strangers who are also on a second date. 

“How long have you known each other?” Mark, one of the strangers asks Hermann pointedly.

“Over a decade,” Hermann answers.

“And you’re just now getting around to dating?”

Hermann takes a large gulp of his beer, looks over at Newton. Is there a way to answer this that will be least uncomfortable but still honest? He supposes he doesn’t need to be honest, Newton would understand.

“Yes. We’re exploring all of the options,” Hermann explains. It’s not inaccurate.

The other stranger, Hilary, cuts in then. “Leave him alone and take your damn turn, Mark. I want to buy your properties.”

“I don’t mind,” Hermann lies.

“I think it’s great that you’re taking a chance on trying something new,” Mark states, after he’s sent to jail on his turn. “Hils and I work together and we don’t always get along at work, but I still thought she was super cute.”

“He’s trying to manipulate me, he should be sent to jail for longer,” Hilary declares.

The strangers have had several beers each and they’re uninhibited but kind. Hermann feels oddly comfortable in the setting, even if Newton makes faces at him across the table every time one of them (usually mark) asks Hermann an awkward question. Mark becomes very insistent on telling Newton what a catch he has and putting his hand on Hermann’s shoulder between the turns at which point Newton insists that they switch seats.

When Newton’s settled in the spot, he puts his arm around Hermann, which Hermann acknowledges for what it is; to keep Mark’s focus on the person who he’s supposed to be paying attention to. Hermann’s reminded of how much he misses the old ease of touching, of Newton without these imposed boundaries. Without another thought, Hermann leans against Newton.

Newton’s very engaged in the game, his competitive streak coming out. When they lived at the Shatterdome, they’d get into shouting matches about the outcomes of any game they played. He stops for a moment, though, when some old indie song slips onto the radio. Hermann is blessed to catch the look on his face, the softness of a man remembering something that once meant the world to him. May still mean the world to him in some ways.

“I used to sing this at Open Mic nights,” Newton explains, low enough so that only Hermann can properly hear.

“I thought you preferred screaming to singing,” Hermann responds.

“Oh, I only did the Open Mic nights to get laid.”

“And did it work?” Hermann asks. Is this forward of him? He doesn’t want to give Newton the wrong impression.

“Sometimes. Sometimes the screaming worked too, depended on who I was trying to sleep with at the time.”

Across the table Hilary clears her throat and Hermann takes his turn. In the back of his mind, he wonders what type of music Newton thinks would work to seduce him. Objectively he knows that Newton knows him well enough as a person, but he has an odd visual of Newton attempting some old concerto or smooth jazz or something utterly unsexy.

Newton hums along to the song and sings some snippets under his breath. From a technical standpoint he’s a skilled singer but his voice will always be too raw, too high pitched to ever be considered good enough to make a career out of it. For Hermann it’s familiar, charming. That is to say, he likes listening to Newton sing.

It's late when they leave the bar, their new friends had left about an hour prior and Hermann's had two drinks but feels sober again. Newton nursed one beer early in the night but hasn't had a drink since, so Hermann is reasonably assured climbing back on the scooter behind him. Hermann feels surprisingly warm, and he can’t blame it on the beers at this point in the night.

Hermann doesn’t truly process that Newton’s taken the scenic route until he recognizes a shop about two miles from their building. He doesn’t mind, holding on tightly to Newton. There’s definitely the first twinge of pain in his leg, but it’ll be sometime before it’s enough that he’ll consider asking to stop. This is the first time since they drifted together that everything feels in harmony, and it would take a lot for Hermann to wish that away.

As best as he can with the blasted helmet, he rests his cheek against Newton’s shoulder and closes his eyes. There’s something so odd about the sensation of riding without seeing, of putting his trust so fully in someone else. Newton has a special place in Hermann’s life as possibly the only other person he truly trusts. Despite his seeming carelessness, Hermann would place his whole life in Newton’s hands without hesitation.

He’s almost surprised when they stop. It’s the very early hours of the morning and everything seems remarkably still. Newton climbs off the scooter first, offering his hand to Hermann to help him. They both laugh for a few moments after at the absurdity of their respective helmet hair. This time, Hermann lets his hair stay as it is as well as Newton’s.

“You alright, Herms?” Newton asks, he looks bashful, with a hand shoved in his pocket.

“Perfectly, thank you.” He hands over the helmet, lets his hand graze against Newton’s for a moment. If he had this date with anyone but Newton, all it would take is a short sentence seeking permission and he’d invite the young man up to his apartment. But he can’t do that to Newton, he can’t risk that until he’s absolute certain this is something he will pursue further.

“I hope you didn’t completely hate that. That guy at the bar was...way more into you than his actual date, I think.”

“It truly didn’t bother me. And I don’t think it bothered his date either.”

Newton’s eyes go wide in a look of mock horror. “Maybe they were trying to get you to have a threesome.”

“That’s not humorous, Newton.” Hermann fetches the folding cane so he can begin his ascent to his apartment.

“You’re a handsome dude, weirder things have happened.” Newton gives a knowing look and Hermann refuses to engage. He’s already had enough details about Newton’s singular disastrous attempt at group sex.

“Do you want to walk me to my flat or not?” Hermann asks, pointing his cane in the direction of their building.

“Yeah, of course.”

He doesn’t comment on the fact that Newton rests his hand on his lower back almost the entire way to the apartment. The gesture, Hermann thinks, is likely out of concern for keeping him out late, or for his leg and any pain he may be feeling. He suspects, similarly to how he can feel Newton burn his tongue on hot tea or coffee, Newton may be able to sense when he’s in pain as well to some extent.

“Was this-” Newton starts once they’re at his doorway, he licks his lips and tries again. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“I enjoyed myself very much, Newton. Even riding on the disaster scooter.”

“Good!” The answer is probably too eager, and Newton’s face pointedly lights up in a way that makes Hermann’s chest feel tight. Regardless of his feelings or lack thereof, this confirms that he’d definitely take Newton to bed tonight if he was anyone else.

“Thank you. This felt...more like you than last time.”

“Well, next date we’ll have to do something that’s typical you. And I don’t mean going for drinks.”

Hermann’s silent for a moment, biting the inside of his lip. He’s not really sure what he’d do for a date, he’s always gone along with the conventional when planning.

“Oh,” Newton speaks up again, resigned. “Shit, I’m sorry- I misread the situation, Herms. I don’t want you to feel like you’ve gotta-”

“No, no,” Hermann cuts in. “I’m open to another. I’d like to try another. I was unsure of what I could suggest that would be interesting and need to think on it.”

“You’ve got a brilliant mind, I’m sure somewhere in that head of yours you’ve got a few date ideas.”

“Goodnight, Newton.”

“Goodnight, Herms. I, ah-”

What happens next is one of the most surprising moments of Hermann’s life. Newton leans forward and presses his mouth to Hermann’s, tentative but with a firmness. For the first half second, Hermann’s too frozen to move but then the real surprise comes: he kisses Newton back. It doesn’t last long enough for either of them to properly kiss the other, and it’s Newton that pulls away, a small grin on his face.

“Newton-”

“I should go,” Newton says, already walking backwards towards the staircase. “I’ll see you on Monday. Let me know what you want to do next.”

Hermann’s heart is hammering in his chest and he’s still a bit too shellshocked to reach for his keys. Newton looks triumphant, attractive despite his tired eyes and helmet hair as he walks away. The issue of physical attraction doesn’t seem to be an issue anymore, judging by his reaction to one small kiss from Newt.


	4. something Like a little bit of revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's song is "Mahogany" by Snow Patrol
> 
> expect at least one update over the weekend y'all

Half of Hermann’s Sunday is occupied with deciding how to talk to Newton next about their relationship. It’s not that he thinks it’s the best idea to start suddenly kissing often, but he also wants Newton to be aware that the kissing is far from unwelcome. There’s that fear, though, in the back of his mind, that this may give Newton false expectations or hope. Hermann’s pursued several short lived and mostly sexual relationships in his life, though certainly not too recently with any success.

Usually, once he had someone in his bed enough times, he’d realize there was little appeal left to the relationship and then move on. It wasn’t the kindest way to approach these relationships, but he was being honest and he knew these were men he would not pursue for the sake of romance. But he’s not going to sleep with Newton, certainly not so early on and certainly not with the knowledge that Newton is in love with him. Something about that seems wholly unfair to both Newton and himself, if he’s being perfectly honest.

Still, he wants to make Newton want to kiss him again. He wants to kiss Newton again. So he plans a date that both meets his typical requirements and will appeal to Newt’s sensibilities. He fixes the date for that Friday night and gives an address of a bar to meet at around five. (Hermann has late office hours that day and will not return home before the date.)

Naturally, Newt’s the later of the two of them. Hermann’s even gone out of his way to change into more weekend and date appropriate clothing- a pair of fitted jeans and a simple light knit sweater, even if he retains his usual brogues. When it reaches five fifteen, he begins to worry. It speaks volumes to his regard for Newton that he is more concerned than annoyed at the tardiness. He’s just about to send off a text when Newt strides in, giving a sheepish grin as he steps up onto the stool next to Hermann.

“Sorry I’m late, the Uber driver got lost, if you’ll believe it.” He toys with the menu in front of him, looking over the beer options. “So you did end up going with meeting for drinks?”

“The drinks are not the date itself, I thought you’d want to have something to eat beforehand and this place has excellent Happy Hour specials on food as well as drinks. Or so the reviews tell me.”

“Hermann, did you read Yelp reviews for  _ me _ ?” Newt laughs.

“It’s not funny, Newton. I haven’t had the chance to visit many bars in Boston-”

“No, it’s adorable. Honestly.” 

Something about being called adorable sits very poorly with Hermann, but he refuses to comment on it, instead allowing Newton the chance to order his beer and some very hot wings from the bartender who decides to make eyes at him as he orders.

Hermann nurses his own drink, a glass of red wine (not too sweet, just dry enough) and attempts to avoid glaring daggers at the bartender. Newt doesn’t seem to notice either glance being leveled near him, instead turning his attention back to Hermann directly, leaning his elbow against the bar.

They’re at some trendy bar, the type that serves their mixed drinks in a mason jar and plates everything in an attempt to be non conventional. The lights are already far too low for a Happy Hour crowd and it’s loud, full of twenty somethings. Hermann doesn’t mind much, because Newton seems happy and he’s wearing a fitted t-shirt and a denim jacket with buttons adorning the right side.

“Are you eating something?” Newt asks, eyeing the glass of wine.

“Yes, of course. No, you cannot have any of my food while you wait for yours.”

“Herms, I’m going to starve to death and then you’re going to be all alone in Boston for the rest of time.”

“I think I can figure out how to move out of this city on my own. Besides,” Hermann says, rather pointedly, “Boston is growing on me in a new way that I didn’t expect.”

“You’re really bad at figurative language, dude. Not subtle at all.” Newt’s grinning anyway and Hermann thinks his cheeks may be tinged the slightest shade of pink. His hand finds its way to Hermann’s knee and he squeezes before he withdraws it.

Hermann’s food arrives then and he does let Newt steal a few of his fries as he waits for his own food to come. The sacrifice is worth the peace of Newton not whinging about how hungry he is. Besides, any show of intimacy will keep the bartender from his useless attempts at flirting with Newton, so that’s a small victory. Hermann supposes there’s no small victory quite like the fact, however, that he’s actually jealous of the bartender, which seems absurd. Just a few weeks ago he wasn’t jealous of people that Newt had actually slept with, but now he’s jealous just at the implication that someone would look at him with appreciation.

A good deal of that appreciation is done away with once the hot wings arrive. Hermann himself is still slightly appalled, and he suspects he always will be, by Newt’s mess he makes. Before his eyes, this attractive man who he’d been preoccupied with considering kissing has shifted into Newton at his messiest. Hermann wonders if that’s how he’ll know if he has feelings for Newt, if he wants to kiss him at his worst.

Part of him hopes that’s not the case.

 

After dinner, they go to the Charles Hayden Planetarium. Newt’s confused at first, because while Hermann loves space, he’s shown a distaste for how artificial the planetarium experience can be, but then Hermann thrusts a ticket into his hand.

“You’re taking me to a light show?” Newton asks skeptically.

“I believe you enjoy Radiohead, correct?” Hermann responds. “I thought you might enjoy this. Typically, I like to go to arts and culture events on dates and this seemed fitting.”

“So instead of some play or concerto you’re taking me to watch a bunch of flashing lights?”

“Well, next time I take you on a date I can’t guarantee it will be this engaging, but I thought this was a good sampler of what it’s like to date me.”

Hermann feels a lump in his throat as he speaks. He hadn’t realized how far he’s wandered from the idea of making Newt fall out of love with him. It doesn’t feel like a consideration now, it feels like an outcome that could happen, but not one that he’s hoping for.

“I figured there’d be a lot more math involved, but otherwise it’d be about this,” Newt jokes.

“Oh, that was the second half of the evening. We were going to go to my apartment and get out the chalkboard.”

“When you say it like that, Herms, it makes it sound a bit kinky.”

He does his very best to keep from blushing, but he can tell from the way that Newt looks at him that he’s not particularly successful in the endeavor. There’s a certain degree of envy to how easily Newton can flirt with him, can make him blush. If anything, the dynamics should be switched, with Hermann sure of Newt’s affections and not the other way around, and Hermann should be able to take advantage of that. But no, Hermann can’t make jokes about this precisely because he knows Newt desires him and has for a long while.

“There’s nothing kinky about maths, Newton.”

“Mhm, keep telling yourself that, man.”

The attempt he makes at a glare is lost as Newt tugs on his arm and leads him into the auditorium. The show is loud and bright and Hermann doesn't know enough Radiohead songs to enjoy it as much as he should, but he loves watching Newton's face shifting from wonder to skepticism to a deep interest. This seems like a very worthwhile date night, all things considered.

They sit on a bench outside of the planetarium after, waiting for their Uber to arrive. 

“Thanks for tonight,” Newt says, bumping his shoulder against Hermann's.

“It was my pleasure, Newton.” 

“Even if you started out with drinks.”

“Oh, terribly sorry. Next time I'll withhold from buying you alcohol or food.”

Newt makes a bold move then, reaching for Hermann's hand where it rests between them. It's surprising at first but Hermann lets him hold his hand. They've kissed, after all. Holding hands is a few steps before kissing. If anything, holding hands is the first step.

“Well, next time I think it’s my turn to buy the alcohol and food,” Newton explains and he squeezes Hermann’s hand. “How long until they’re here?”

“Three minutes.” Hermann eyes his phone.

Leaning back, Newt braces his free hand on the bench, looking upwards. “Do you want to- uh. I was wondering if you wanted to kiss again.”

“You haven’t evolved past school days dating tactics, have you?” Hermann asks.

“That’s not the answer to my question.”

Hermann sighs and leans in, taking Newt’s face in his hands. “I would not be opposed.”

Their second kiss is less of a shock than the first, largely because Hermann is the one to initiate it. Newt tastes a bit like his beer from dinner and chapstick, like he was hoping for this eventuality and prepared himself. Ever noisy, Newt hums pleasantly into the kiss and the sensation is not unlike contented purring. There’s still the smallest sense of panic in the back of Hermann’s mind, this is his lab partner, this is the man he’s spent the better part of a decade hating and shouting at. This is a man who loves him very much and he’s terrified of using that love to hurt him.

He’s saved the need to explain why he’s pulling away from such a tender, perfect kiss by the sound of the Uber driver honking the horn.

 

The fourth date is an unmitigated disaster. They decide to go for dinner at a very nice restaurant and somehow someone’s lost the reservation. Hermann is treated to the sight of Newt fighting with the host at the restaurant, though.

“The reservation’s for Newt,” he explains, standing up on tiptoe to lean over the host stand, to look for where the reservations are written down. “I called three days ago.”

“We don’t have anything for a Newt,” the host insists. “I wasn’t working three days ago, I swear.”

“Is it for Newton?” Newt asks hopefully, even if it’s highly unlikely. “Or Hermann?”

“Are you just choosing names now?” the host, who’s wearing a name tag that says Billy says. “There’s nothing for Newt or Newton or Hermann.”

“I made a reservation for eight three days ago, dude. There’s not a single table for two here?”

“We’re booked through the night.”

Newt turns to Hermann then, his look somewhere between apologetic and frantic. As a date he’s wonderful when things are going right, but Newton does not handle the pressure of something gone wrong very well at all. 

“We could find another restaurant, Newton, it’s not an issue.”

“I want- I want this one to be right.”

“I know you do, but not all dates have to be fantastic.”

That seems like a logical statement, but Newt turns on his heel and abruptly exits the restaurant. Hermann gives a very small and inconsequential apology before he follows him outside of the restaurant.

“Newton,” he calls after him. “That was entirely uncalled for.”

Abruptly, Newt turns around. His expression has shifted into one of something akin to panic and sorrow and Hermann’s not really sure how to react to that. 

“I did make the reservation, Hermann. Honest to God. They’re the ones who lost it.”

“I don’t care about the damn reservation,” he exclaims. “We can go anywhere to eat, we used to eat mess hall food together, I think we can cope.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Newt’s nearly shouting, but it wouldn’t seem like the tone was much louder than his usual speaking voice if people weren’t staring.

“I think I understand, Newton.”

“I’m in love with you,” he states and it feels like a punch in the gut. Hermann’s known this, of course, but it’s the first time Newt’s said it. “But I’ve been in love with you since- since we were writing letters. And I spent a decade thinking that maybe, just maybe you loved me back.”

“Can’t we talk about this back in one of our-”

“I need to say this now, Hermann, please,” Newton’s voice is now small, tight like there’s something lodged in his throat.

“Okay, then say it, here on the streets if you must.” He means to have a warning edge to his words, but Hermann can’t bring himself to do it.

“I was devastated when we drifted. Broken, shattered. But I was coping, or learning to cope. Because I understood too, I need you in my life however that happens. It’s different now. All I can think about is getting this right so maybe, just maybe you can love me a fraction of the way I love you. Just the tiniest bit, Herms. I’m not asking for your whole heart. Just want to be good enough to get a part of it.”

“My feelings for you are not a judgment of your character or my esteem for you as a person. I’ve never been able to have feelings for people in quite the right way.”

Here is the truth, Hermann was only ever made for giving someone his whole heart. And maybe that’s the problem, he can’t fall in love with Newt until he’s ready to give him his whole heart freely. Newt himself? Has no hesitance in giving the heart he wears on sleeve to a boy he writes letters to, to a man who insults him as easily as he breathes, to someone who seems to refuse to love him out of some deeply embedded refusal to understand what it means to love.

“I get it, dude. I’m- let’s just go home and forget about this one?” Newton says, plastering a smile on his face.

“Of course, I’m tired anyway,” Hermann lies. Disappointed would be the correct word. There’s nothing to be done about that now, though. They walk together to their separate apartments and part ways. Next time will be better.

 

They have a few more dates, none of which are disasters. Both end in a kiss outside of Hermann’s door at the end of the night. Their daily life, going to work together and sharing coffee, doesn’t change much. Sometimes they’ll hold hands when they sit in one of their offices or in the car, but the way they talk to each other, about each other, doesn’t change in any substantial way. It shouldn’t have to.

Still, Hermann thinks how easy it could be to kiss Newt in those moments, or to move just a bit closer so they were pressed together. He’d like doing these things, becoming closer to him physically. What strange progress they’ve made, moving through their relationship.

Tonight, they’re in Newt’s apartment after ordering some Chinese takeaway together. The lines are blurred a bit, if this is a date or just them spending time together. Hermann’s not really sure what the limits are in this situation when you’re already friends with the person that you’re dating.

“Do you want something to drink?” Newton asks, peering up at Hermann from where he sits on the floor next to the couch. “I think I’ve got a bottle of wine in my fridge.”

“Just one glass.”

“Worried about the drive back home?” he teases, standing carefully.

Hermann may or may not give an appreciative glance to his backside when he walks away. The odd feelings he had the first few times he’d tried to process being attracted to Newt are mostly gone. There’s no weird sense of shame in appreciating his body or his hair or the way his face is lightly dusted with freckles. He’s in the middle of thinking about those very freckles when Newt returns to the living room and sinks down next to him, holding out a glass of wine.

“Thank you, Newton.” Without thinking, he presses his lips to Newt’s, just a small peck and then he’s back to normal. But this is his normal now.

Newt looks startled for a moment and swallows hard. He takes his own glass of wine and drinks a hearty gulp and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Hermann finds himself staring down at his glass of wine. 

“You’ve been playing your guitar,” Hermann observes, because he needs to say something, when he looks up and catches sight of the instrument.

“A bit, off and on. Trying to get back into some old hobbies.”

“I heard you, sort of. About a month back. After our first date.”

“How?”

“Chainsmoking,” Hermann admits. “Out of my apartment window. You must have had your window open as well. Or it’s entirely possibly I sensed you playing through the remnants of our drift.”

The concept seems innocent enough, but Newt blushes like Hermann’s revealed some dark secret about him.

“I thought you quit smoking,” Newt says, when he’s collected himself.

“I’ve never said I quit, simply that I’m cutting back now that the world is not ending.”

“Right, right. You do know that cigarettes kill you and-”

“I am fully aware, thank you.”

“I’m very fond of your lungs, Hermann, that’s the point I’m trying to get across here.”

“Why don’t you play me something,” Hermann suggests, changing the subject away from his bad habits.

“You sure about that?” Newt offers a lopsided grin.

“Of course. Play me a song. Maybe even sing.”

“Alright, but remember that you asked for it.”

Newt stands and moves across the room to fetch his guitar. It’s a beat up thing he’s had since he was in his 20s, Hermann remembers seeing it in photos he’d sent during their penpal days. There’s some stickers on it, similar to the stickers on his Vespa helmet. He settles back on the couch with the guitar, humming to himself as he checks that it’s in tune. Hermann’s musical prowess starts and finishes with piano lessons his father forced him into as a child, but he’s an appreciator of good music nonetheless.

“Do you like Snow Patrol?” Newt asks, strumming the guitar.

“What’s Snow Patrol?” Hermann responds, taking a sip of his wine before he places it on the coffee table.

Instead of responding, Newt shakes his head and strums the first few bars of a song. He hesitates, restarts once, then twice as his voice joins in the song. It remains true that Newt’s voice is probably a bit too high to be considered exceptionally good, but he manages well enough. The song is softer than what he’s heard performed, in videos from Newt’s days fronting a punk rock band, and the softness suits his voice. And his everything; the soft yellow t-shirt he’s wearing, his bare feet, the way he shifts into a grin every time he hits a note poorly. The song he sings is truly unfamiliar, but romantic.

Hermann recognizes it as the song he heard performed out of Newt’s window weeks prior. It’s something more delicate than a seduction song, but the implication is there nonetheless. Everything about it seems suiting for their situation. His situation as he sits on this couch across from this man who seems like someone new and more and more lovely each and every time he sees him.

The song is short, maybe three minutes long. There’s a pause and something is forming in the air between them, hot and electric shaping and shifting into something that feels almost tangible. Newt hesitates for a moment, places the guitar aside, and then Hermann meets him halfway. That doesn’t matter much, though, as in Newt’s enthusiasm he’s pushed back against the arm of the couch again as they kiss.

It’s different from their previous kisses, there’s a heat to it, and they’re able to be as physically close as they’d like. For Newt, this seems to be as close as possible. One of his hands strokes along Hermann’s neck, never quite sliding under the collar of his shirt, but the implication is there. Hermann’s own hands find their homes running along Newt’s back, gentle touches, tempting to pull at his shirt, testing how easily he could tug the t-shirt over his head and toss it aside.

Stripping Newt down to nothing would be so easy, Hermann knows this. This would be possibly the easiest thing in the world, the most beautiful thing in the world. Regardless of his feelings through the duration of them, it would feel like the proper solution to their tempestuous relationship. When he feels Newt’s erection press against his thigh, the spike of want in his stomach is so abrupt he moans against his mouth. He wants. He wants so badly.

But he pulls away, ends the kiss. Newt might be alright with just a fraction, he might say that he’ll take a sliver of Hermann’s heart but the truth remains the truth. For Hermann, if he’s going to give his heart, he’s going to give it fully and he knows that in this relationship, sex will be part of this. It’s not enough to be sexually attracted to Newt, to feel that he’s developing feelings for him, he has to love him. Newt deserves to be loved by him. (He believes Newt deserves to be loved by someone better, but if Hermann was who he’s chosen, then so be it.)

“Newton, I-” Hermann brings his hands to Newt’s arms, rubbing them soothingly. “We should stop.”

Newt nods in hesitant agreement and shifts back to his side of the couch. He likely can see that Hermann is half hard in his jeans as well, but he doesn’t comment on it. The image of Newt like this, well kissed and grinning, is near impossible to resist, but he must.

“I think-” Hermann continues and he sighs, willing away his arousal. “I think if we take that even farther, that’s a point of no return, isn’t it?”

In response, Newt tilts his head, looking confused until understanding settles in. “You think sex would make things awkward between us.”

“I believe if we slept together, it would make things nearly impossible to go back to how they were before we started this, so I need to be certain that this is what I want.”

The look of hurt in Newt’s eyes is something that Hermann thinks will be seared in his memories. He wants so badly to tell him that he’s halfway there, that he’s thinking the tenderest thoughts of his life about Newt. But that seems unfair, he can’t say more until he’s absolutely certain. He wants so badly to be certain.


	5. two minds and all the places they have been

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's title is from "Bloodstream" by Stateless which is a generally great song for this pairing, my dudes

Hermann’s decided to surprise Newt that afternoon with some tea and a visit to his office. They don’t see each other as much at work now that they’ve been dating for several weeks, largely to keep a low profile about the fact that they’re romantically involved. If things do come undone, they can go back to their usual attached at the hip routine and if they become very serious they can modify that, but the limbo they occupy makes it difficult to balance as they venture further into it.

Newt rises from his desk when Hermann enters, presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and then closes the door firmly. Hermann settles himself in the uncomfortable chair across from Newt’s desk chair. He imagines Newt’s students coming in and sitting across from him to argue about grades or gush about his work. His own students come in rarely, usually after he’s given them a bad mark that they deserve, but besides his TAs he’s treated with reverence and perhaps a little bit of fear and left alone in his space. Apparently Newt’s students come by during his office hours sometimes to chat or argue or discuss his theories about Star Trek.

“Did you already pour a bunch of sugar in here?” Newt asks, lifting the lid off of his tea.

“Of course. I felt my life flash before my eyes as I did it.” Hermann bites the corner of his lip.

When Newt sips his tea, some of it spills out of the corner of the cup. He quickly wipes it with the back of his hand. Newt drinks his morning coffee black and everything else repulsively sweet. Hermann likes everything he drinks to taste the way it’s supposed to taste.

“Tea just tastes like leaves if you don’t put any sugar in it, dude.”

Hermann shakes his head and continues to drink his own tea. Before they can speak any further, there’s a knock on the door and Newt rises again to open it, not fully, but enough that whoever is at the door can see inside.

He talks animatedly for a few moments with a young woman and when Hermann sneaks a glance over his shoulder, he recognizes her as Newt’s TA. They’re talking about an assignment she’s grading and Hermann has no reason to listen, but then he’s caught by the use of the word “boyfriend” by the TA, and then the ensuing lack of disagreement on Newt’s part.

Has Newt been telling people that Hermann is his boyfriend? Have they been assuming? It’s not exactly that he isn’t his partner, they’ve been going on dates very regularly and people become official couples in shorter amounts of time frequently. But being Newt’s boyfriend or partner or significant other seems like something that’s so very serious it’s hard to undertake it lightly. He’d considered the possibility once they’d gone on a handful of dates, but then pushed it to the back of his mind (another thing about Newt compartmentalized.) Now that he hears it and doesn’t have to make the decision, he really doesn’t mind.

“Sorry about that,” Newt apologizes, slipping back into his chair.

“It’s fine. I came here during your office hours and it’s to be expected.”

“Did you, uh- did you hear what we were talking about?”

“If you’re asking if I heard what word she used to refer to me, yes. And I don’t mind.”

“Yeah?” Newt looks hopeful.

“It seems like an appropriate label, given the current status of our relationship. I don’t mind if people assume.”

“But do you mind if we  _ are _ ?”

Ah, that’s the crux of it. He likes the idea of people assuming the label, but he’s not sure if he’s ready to commit to the label itself. No, he knows he wants to commit, but he knows that’s another point of no turning back for them. But maybe this moment, this decision is something they can almost return from. It’s a risk he’s going to take.

“I believe we already are,” Hermann states, not exactly meeting Newt’s eye across the desk.

“Okay. I’ll try not to be that obnoxious boyfriend.” Newt’s grinning to himself, of course, already delighting in the use of the label.

“Don’t make me regret letting you use this.”

“Speaking of regret,” Newt begins. “I have a really good date idea for this weekend.”

“I’m unsure if regret and good dates go together, Newton.”

“You’ll see.”

Hermann has no doubt he’ll see before long. And he doubts he’ll actually have any regrets.

 

Newt’s idea of a fun date is to take Hermann on a pub crawl. Apparently this is a pub crawl Newt went on about a decade prior and had a great deal of fun, meaning about half of the other people also on the pub crawl are a decade younger than them.

At first, Hermann’s not interested in the drinks, but then he decides to give in and have the special at the first two bars. And then the following two bars, where he has two each of the specials. Newt is amused by Hermann like this but by the fifth bar, he suggests to Hermann that they go home. Despite the fact that Hermann is having a good time talking to two young gentlemen about their startup, he agrees with going home because it means he gets to go home with  _ Newt _ . (Not in that way, it’s not time for that way. But maybe, he thinks, they could kiss or even cuddle, which is not something Hermann would usually say, but when he’s drunk he’s not opposed to the word.)

The cab ride home feels like it takes ages. Hermann dozes in the backseat with his head resting against Newt’s shoulder. He feels warm and happy. The last time he was drunk like this was years ago and he didn’t have anyone he was this close to take care of him. Not that he needs someone to take care of him, because he’s perfectly fine. Everything just feels rather fuzzy in a fairly pleasant way.

Still, he’s grateful that Newt has a spare key and can help him into his apartment because walking and opening doors are a challenge for a moment. He leans heavily against Newt, wrapping an arm around his waist. Walking is actually more difficult like this, but he doesn’t want to pull away as he steps into his apartment.

“Feels weird to feel the one putting you to bed,” Newt explains, walking Hermann back to his bedroom.

“‘m fine, Newton. Can get to bed all on my own,” Hermann answers. “Just need a few moments to...not be spinning.”

Newt helps him sit on the edge of the bed and then kneels down to undo his shoes. Hermann feels foolish in his state for having worn his nice shoes out to a pub crawl. No matter what he does or how he tries to handle it, he’s always so damn uptight. Not like Newt, no. Newt looks soft and warm and pleasantly casual. And since when has he been Newt, anyway? What happened to Newton? He still calls him Newton, but this isn’t Newton anymore. This is a softer, lovelier Newt, a man who helps him takes off his tight shoes and touches his knee before he stands.

“Can you change for bed? I can’t imagine you enjoy sleeping in your stuffy professor clothes,” Newt says, teasing.

“I’m highly capable of changing myself,” Hermann answers and then without any dignity wrangles with his light sweater.

For a few moments he’s actually stuck but Newt is there to disentangle himself from the garment. In the haze of the moment, he can still tell that Newt’s smile is very fond. It’s a bit awkward, letting Newt help him out of his clothes and the moment is unbearably intimate but Newt doesn’t betray anything beyond the tender fondness of his smile. They both stand and thankfully Hermann can remove his own trousers in his state, because that would be too intimate in a new way and then he’d do something foolish like ask Newt to keep going.

 

Newt has an almost instinctive knowledge of Hermann’s drawers and fetches a t-shirt for him, helping him slip into it. Hermann smiles up at him and he hopes his face isn’t betraying his more tender feelings, he doesn’t want everything he’s feeling to slip out when he’s like this, drunk and vulnerable and not in control.

“Can you stay?” Hermann asks. “Just for a few moments.”

Hermann slips into his bed, comfortable under his two duvets. Glancing over at Newt, he has a moment of strange deja vu. But it’s not his own memory he’s repeating, maybe it’s one of Newt’s. The night Newt cried and asked to take care of him, if he recalls correctly. Of course he recalls correctly, his memories of Newt are always clear and perfect.

Newt slides onto the other side of the bed, over the covers. His dirty boots are resting on top of the duvets and Hermann hates that but not enough to risk Newt leaving his bed. He sinks down and watches as Newt settles in the bed, his back against the headboard.

“I think my room is still spinning,” Hermann comments, instead of all of the tender things he’s thinking.

“It’s perfectly still, dude. You just had a few too many drink specials tonight but I’ll stay here until it stops spinning.”

“Then I hope it never stops spinning.”

He closes his eyes nonetheless and doesn’t say anything more. It’s enough to know that he’s not alone and that someone’s taking care of him. It’s nice to have someone take care of him.

 

The moment comes, alarmingly enough, as they’re standing in a Whole Foods supermarket. Because Newt doesn’t have a car and because Hermann can’t trust Newt to buy real groceries for himself, he offers to take him to the grocery store with him. Shopping with Newt is often very similar to shopping with a small child, he puts his hands on everything and debates for long moments between food items. Hermann will write him a list that he’s almost insistent on deviating from, even though he requests the list himself.

Newt’s in the middle of gently squeezing two oranges, comparing between the two of them. He’s clearly too intent on this, sticking out the tip of his tongue and he looks absurd. They are both acceptable, no doubt. Hermann’s struck by the moment, though, Newt with his worn leather jacket and his worn but gentle hands. It’s something that he’s going to remember, perhaps because of the way he feels, or perhaps because of how alarming the moment is.

This feeling is warm and it’s something Hermann thinks he’d like to carry with him for the rest of his life.

 

Autumn in Boston is not exactly Hermann would say he enjoys. They had started teaching in the summer session and the summer was beautiful with perfect weather. He could sleep with his windows open (except where he’d lost his window screen) and he didn’t need any coats or jackets. As soon as September crept by, the nights became cold.

Still, on a particularly clear night, Newt insists they go for a ride on the Vespa. Hermann hasn’t considered refusing an invitation for a ride since their first ride and he doesn’t refuse this time. That doesn’t mean he isn’t bundled up tightly in a warm jacket and scarf. The leather jacket Newt seems so very attached to does not seem sufficient enough for the weather, but he still feels warmer to the touch than Hermann himself.

There’s a prettiness to the city this time of year, at least, even in the darkness. In many ways, these American East Coast cities are made for autumn, the way so many cities from Hermann’s childhood are made from autumn or winter or spring. Newt turns on his radio, listens to some mellow song about soft feelings, and Hermann lets himself relish in how much he relates to the words and the feelings behind them. There’s an understanding that spreads through him. He presses his cheek against Newt’s shoulder, as he’s grown used to on these rides, siphons however much of his warmth as he can. Eventually even holding him this close isn’t enough.

“Can we go home?” Hermann asks, perking his head up. He presses a kiss to Newt’s shoulder.

“We’ve gotta if your hands are this cold,” Newt responds, turning slightly to him. “The coldness is enough to shock me into an accident.”

“You’re the one who suggested this,” he adds, tempted to find some bare skin to place his cold hands on.

“We’ll go home and get you under some warm blankets in no time.”

It’s still another fifteen minutes until they’re home and standing outside of Hermann’s door. By then his hands are profoundly cold and there’s little else he can think about besides having a nice cup of tea. In fact, there’s precisely one other thing he can think about in that moment. It’s that second thing that takes over, when Newt leans in and kisses him.

How things have changed, how easy this is for him. He cups Newt’s cheek as he kisses him, nipping at his lower lip. Newt makes the most beautiful sound, low and needy and he wants to give in to that need. He’s going to give into that need, he thinks. He knows.

“Do you want to come inside?” Hermann suggests.

Newt’s hand is low on his waist, then travels down to grip his ass. They’ve never really touched like this, bold and intimate and it’s truly the point of no return. Hermann is no longer afraid. There’s no verbal answer, but he pushes open the door, takes Newt’s hand and pulls him inside. Almost instinctively, Newt walks towards the couch, but Hermann redirects him to his bedroom.

“Oh,” Newt mouths, his eyes suddenly wide. “ _ Oh _ .”

“Alright?” he asks.

Another silent cue, this time less subtle, Newt nods his head and follows him into the bedroom. After toeing off their shoes, they resume their kissing, Newt wastes no time in getting his hands all over Hermann. It’s only after he’s pushed off Hermann’s coat and scarf and started on the buttons of his shirt that Hermann notices that they’re shaking.

“Cold?” Hermann queries. He doesn’t feel particularly cold.

“No.” Newt shakes his head. “No, I’m-”

_ Nervous _ , Hermann’s mind supplies. Newt’s been waiting for this for almost as long as he’s known Hermann.

“You’re fine.” Hermann takes his hand and lifts it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles. “It’s just me, after all.”

“That’s sort of what I’m nervous about, dude.” Newt laughs.

Hermann places his hands on Newt’s chest, pushes the leather jacket off of his shoulders. The unseasonable t-shirt he’s wearing follows easily (it’s the yellow t-shirt, in a stroke of luck, he had worn the night he serenaded Hermann). Newt’s body is not foreign to him, he’s not particularly shy about it and Hermann’s seen photos and he’s seen him parade around shirtless enough. It’s different now. His hands trace along the kaiju that paint his stomach, it feels no different than any other man’s skin, but it’s a world of difference. His stomach is soft, warm. For not the first time, Hermann wants to know what it’s like to fall asleep with his head on his stomach, or his chest.

“Nothing to be nervous about, as I said. It’s just me. And you,” Hermann states, bringing his hand back to finish unbuttoning his own shirt.

Never in his life has someone looked at Hermann the way Newt is looking at him now. There’s the telltale lust of stripping down, but it’s a different look. Like he’s the luckiest man in the world, like he’s been given everything he’s ever wanted and more and he’s horrified at the prospect of it slipping by.

He closes the gap and kisses Newt again, hard and hot and eager. They walk together towards the bed, more or less tumbling onto it together, Newt on top of him. He finds himself smiling as Newt shifts to alleviate the pressure on his bad leg. Always courteous for someone so often careless. Awkwardly, Newt shimmies out of his jeans and pants at the same time and Hermann takes in the sight appreciatively. His body is charmingly compact, well built, and outright attractive. That’s the only word for it. 

He wraps his fingers around Newt’s cock, giving a few firm strokes.

“Fuck, Herms,” Newt moans and rocks into his hand. “I need to see you, dude.”

Of course, this makes perfect sense. Hermann’s seen Newt naked before, mostly because Newt is as careless with his body as he is with most things in his life. After ten years of knowing each other, after five years in a lab together, Hermann realizes this is only the second tie Newt’s seen him without any of his clothing. It’s only fair that he gets a chance to see. He withdraws his hand, grasps Newt’s hand and moves it to his own chest, sliding it downwards.

“You can see whatever you like, Newton,” he says, low and teasing as he lets go of his hand.

Newt makes quick work of the button and fly of Hermann’s trousers and all but wrangles him to lift his hips and slide them off. Hermann laughs and makes a noise of surprise, letting Newt do the work of removing his trousers and socks. When his body drops back properly onto the bed, Hermann lets out another surprised noise and Newt kisses his hip in apology.

“You’re beautiful, Hermann. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this, honestly but this is…” Newt trails off, peppering kisses along his hip and lower body. He takes Hermann’s cock in hand, stroking him to hardness, though it doesn’t take long.

“This is what?”

“Perfect.”

He slides up the bed, lays on top of Hermann and kisses him again. When Newt bites down on his lower lip, he lets out a sound that’s positively obscene. Newt smirks and pulls away but he chases his mouth, pulls him closer into another kiss. He’s glad for the kissing, glad it’s able to keep the words that he wants to say from coming out. Those can come tomorrow, he wants this to be perfect for Newt who has been waiting for this for over a decade. He’ll kiss him sweetly when he tells him, maybe they’ll have sex again after, but it’ll be different.

“What do you want?” Hermann asks.

“I just want to touch you, want to take you apart.”

It’s his turn to nod awkwardly and shakily. Newt straddles him properly, directs Hermann’s hands to settle on his hips. The sight is a good one, one Hermann plans to have very often in his future if he has his way. He can’t possibly bring his hands to stay on Newt’s hips, instead wandering up his stomach and chest, at the same moment as Newt takes his cock in hand again, Hermann brushes a finger against Newt’s nipple. They both gasp in tandem and it’s almost laughable but it feels so good.

Hermann rocks into the touch, settles his hands lower, but instead of touching Newt’s hips, he grabs his ass. Newt rocks against him, creating a beautiful friction between their bodies. Newt leans down, pressing kisses to Hermann’s chest, teasing a nipple with his tongue. It’s difficult for him to stroke him in that position, but when Newt bites down and sucks on the nipple, Hermann finds that he doesn’t particularly mind.

When Newt looks up he’s smirking and he starts to stroke him harder, rubbing his thumb along the slit to spread the gathering precome.

“Fucking beautiful,” Newt mutters, his eyes fluttering shut when Hermann grips his ass harder.

Hermann hums in pleasure, looks up at Newt through heavy lashes. He’s making small gasps with each stroke, each getting increasingly louder until he cries out loudly as he spills over Newt’s hand. There’s that blissful moment followed by something like embarrassment at the lack of dignity. Newt clearly does not care, though, as he leans down and kisses along Hermann’s face and neck.

When he’s recovered enough, he pushes Newt gently aside, receives a look of hurt before Newt understands. He takes a pillow from the head of the bed and settles it under his leg as he leans down between Newt’s legs. He places a gentle kiss to the head of Newt’s cock, licks along his slit for a moment before he pulls away.

“I won’t last long,” Newt warns, gripping onto the sheets. “Don’t want you to think that’s a reflection on- usually.”

“I understand, Newton. I won’t hold it against you.” 

He rubs Newt’s thighs reassuringly before he takes the head of his cock into his mouth. For a moment he holds still before he takes more of him in his mouth. It’s a teasing thing, and he pops off after a moment, placing kisses along the shaft. With his hand, he teases at his balls, not paying particular attention, but enough to add to the sensation.

“Please,” Newt asks, like he’s seeking some great mercy.

Certainly it’s not the time to deny Newt what he wants. He takes him back in his mouth, bobbing in earnest for a few moments before he takes Newt’s hand, leading it to rest on the back of his head. The way he rubs his thumb across the back of his head is alarmingly tender for the moment, for a man whose cock is in Hermann’s mouth, but he loves it, relishes in it.

True to his word, Newt doesn’t last too much longer. He shouts, gripping onto Hermann’s hair as best as he can when he comes. Hermann pulls away, wipes off his mouth and slips back up the bed. It’s only when he feels the stickiness between the two of them that he realizes he’s still got come on his stomach.

“How do you feel about sharing a shower?” Hermann offers. “I don’t enjoy going to bed with semen on my stomach.”

“I’m-” Newt starts, his voice hoarse and small, “I’m good, thanks.”

He kisses Newt once before heading to the shower. When he returns, Newt’s curled up in his bed, though he’s still awake. It’s almost like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible, which is absurd. He’s a welcome and invited guest in this bed.

Switching in the light, he climbs into the bed beside him. Newt’s already placed his glasses on the nightstand which makes something in Hermann’s chest ache. They look like they belong there beside Hermann’s pain pills and the book he’s been reading.

“You can take up more room,” Hermann says. “I don’t mind additional physical affection after being intimate.” This answer seems like the coldest way to ask to cuddle.

Newt lifts his head up, clearly attempting to level a glance at him.

“Are you a big spoon or a little spoon?” Newt asks.

“I’m-”

“It’s alright, Hermann. I’ve already guessed and I think I’m correct.”

Which is exactly how he ends up sleeping with Newt pressed against his back that night. Newt is absolutely correct for once.

 

The next morning is going to be the best of his life. Hermann’s determined that already and he’s very eager for it. He wants to take a few moments to savor waking, but the moment he’s fully aware he realizes he’s waking to an empty bed. A frown creeps onto his face as he looks around for Newt. The bed beside him is not exactly cold, but it’s cold enough that no one’s been there for at least half an hour.

“Newton?” he calls out, tentative. He’s probably in the bathroom or maybe he’s gone to make some coffee.

When he looks at the room properly, he notices that Newt’s clothes are gone, so he’s already dressed. This is a minor setback. He’ll still have his perfect morning when Newt comes back to bed, he can take the clothes off of him again. After his first pills are swallowed (dry) he steps out of bed. Someone’s propped his cane against his night stand, and he can’t remember if he did this last night or if Newt must have done it.

Rather than dressing properly, he chooses his comfortable clothes because he plans to be naked again soon. He calls for Newt a few more times, popping into each room of his apartment, but he’s nowhere to be found. This is worrying. There’s the urge to not seem desperate or clingy, but he needs to see Newt. After the previous night, he can’t imagine keeping his feelings private for a moment longer, he needs to let Newt know and immediately.

He takes the stairs to Newt’s apartment, knocking on the door loudly before. When he doesn’t receive an answer, he fumbles with his key, uses Newt’s spare key to unlock the door and push inside. Calling out, he receives no answer. Newt’s apartment is still and it’s clear he hasn’t spent much time in it this morning. The only sign that Newt may have been around is an open drawer in his bedroom, but that can mean anything.

Hermann returns to his apartment, makes a pot of tea and waits. He texts Newt and waits. Newt never appears.


	6. it's the best thing that you ever had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short but potentially painful chapter
> 
> Chapter title from "High and Dry" by Radiohead

Newt’s been gone for two days. In an effort to respect his personal space and time, Hermann’s only texted him a few times and tried not to sound increasingly desperate. When he tries to call him later that afternoon, he goes straight to voicemail and the box is full. He only learns that Newt is safe when he’s asked on Monday morning by a colleague why he’s not gone on the trip with Newt. Apparently social media was worth his time but not telling Hermann that he’s going.

He spends his day retracing his steps mentally, trailing their relationship back to the beginning. It’s mental torture, searching his own brain for things he could have done wrong. He must have done wrong. It was all his own doing, with the hope that maybe Newt would fall out of love with him. Just to get his precious piece of mind back, just to retain that friendship he’d come to selfishly cherish so much.

_ Well _ , he thinks,  _ you’ve got what you wanted you old fool and now he’ll never want to see you again.  _ And for as true as that feels, Hermann cannot think of a single thing he’s done wrong enough to make Newt abruptly not want to be with him. He certainly doesn’t understand why Newt would wait until after they’ve slept together to leave. That’s uncharacteristically cruel of him, to see him and experience Hermann at his most vulnerable and then leave him.

After his classes he returns home to his empty apartment and his cigarettes. It shouldn’t feel this empty, because he lives alone, but it has felt devastatingly so since the other morning when all of his hopes and expectations had fled. He’s coping with twin thoughts- relief that he didn’t tell Newt that he loves him and sorrow that Newt will never know. Just on the off chance Newt still entertains tender feelings for him.

It’s too cold to smoke outside or hang his head out of his window, so he sits at his kitchen table and taps off his cigarette into his ashtray. He really is displeased with this habit and adds it to the list of things Newt could possibly dislike him for. After a final drag, he snuffs it out and casts the whole thing aside. There’s a pack of patches in his bathroom, he’ll try those. Another “just in case.”

The thing is, Newt has to come back and he can’t stay away for long. They’re in the middle of classes and he simply can’t jet off for several weeks because he wants to avoid a friend. Hermann supposes Newt could always choose to leave his job, but Newt is loyal to MIT in a profound way and it’s more likely he’s waiting for Hermann to make his departure. Hermann likes his life here, though, and he’s glad to have a place to live that’s starting to really feel like home. But Newt is his home, not the place, and if that’s gone, he can go most anywhere in the world if he’s not wanted.

When he goes to bed that night, he thinks of how small Newt had looked in his bed. Maybe he should have said something then, maybe he should have said it was alright if he wanted to go and even better if he wanted to stay forever. It seems impossible to believe that just a few nights prior he had exactly what he wanted, that he fell asleep in the arms of someone he loved very dearly. He’s an idiot. 

As though it’s a movie, he plays out how he expected the morning after to pass. Everything perfectly in sync in his life.

 

_ Newt would still be asleep when Hermann woke up. Hermann’s seen him fall asleep accidentally in the lab enough to know what he’d look like, his mouth open as he softly snores. Never loudly enough to disturb, but a constant buzz as a reminder that Newt was there. It suits him to snore, really. _

_ Hermann would wait quietly beside him. Watch him sleep in the least imposing way possible. It would have been so interesting and so beautiful to see, though, this intimate moment before waking. _

_ Awkwardly, Newt would shift when he wakes up, offering a bleary eyed smile at Hermann. Again, Hermann’s never had this experience, but he’s seen Newt shortly after waking up enough times. His body is always warmer than usual and he radiates an air of disturbed comfort. That morning, though, he’d be completely and utterly comfortable. _

_ “Good morning,” Hermann imagines Newt saying. His morning voice is lower than his normal speaking voice, almost husky. _

_ In that moment, he’d be so overcome with the desire to kiss him that he does. Morning breath be damned, it’s far more important to kiss the man he loves. And it’s after he kisses him that he says it, those most important and tender words spilling from his mouth. _

_ “I love you,” he says, stroking a hand down Newt’s cheek. “I’m sorry it took me so long but I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” _

_ Newt’s still half asleep, but his eyes light up at those words. _

_ “Say that again, please,” Newt requests. _

_ And he does. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. _

 

In the morning, he tries to call Newt again. This time he picks up, but doesn’t say anything.

“Newton?” Hermann asks tentatively before the phone hangs up completely.

He’s hurt by Newt’s actions and upset with himself for not doing anything to prevent this but there’s something else that he’s starting to feel. Anger at Newt for walking out, when they could have had a discussion. Either way he would have talked to him, to try to understand him and what he was feeling. This was the precedent he’s been setting every step of their relationship and while his feelings have not always been simple or easy, he’s talked to Newt about them.

He sends off a quick text:  _ Heaven forbid I want to know how you’re doing after you walked out on me like that. _

The response is shorter:  _ at my dad’s _

Hermann, of course, already knew this information from Newt’s various social media accounts. He likely has only posted this information so Hermann can’t worry enough to file a missing person’s report or something equally dramatic. Hermann would not do any such thing after only a few days. Or maybe Hermann’s already such a non-factor in his life that he hadn’t considered the possibility. He has to stop that thought because it’s cruel and unfair to Newt. He trusts Newt to have his own motivations for what he does.

 

On Friday he does something he probably shouldn’t do and takes Newt’s Vespa on a ride. It’s cold and there are clouds hanging heavy in the air. Newt’s only given him the most basic lessons on how to drive the scooter, but he manages well enough, it’s not too difficult and he sticks to mostly empty streets.

The magic of the ride is gone without the scent of Newt, without him insisting on listening to obnoxious music and laughing. He turns music on his own phone, a playlist of songs that Newt had found so essential for him to listen to, but he can barely hear the tinny sound from his phone as he rides through the city. Everything looks dingy and unpleasant in this lighting and he knows he’s being unfair to Boston now. In a few days or weeks or months he’ll be over this, maybe living somewhere else, and he can look back on this time he had with the level of fond love and admiration it deserves.

Everything he’s said and felt about his love for Newt will remain always true, he realizes. He’s going to be the center of Hermann’s world no matter what happens and maybe it’s because Hermann hasn’t loved him so intensely that this could happen. Maybe if he had been in love with Newt the way Newt had been in love with him, it would be different. It could have been intense and burnt out and that would be that. He’s making assumptions, he realizes. Wherever Newt is, he’s too far away for Hermann to possibly feel a single thing he’s feeling.

Perhaps it’s easier to believe he doesn’t love him anymore than he woke up, knew he still loved Hermann, and left anyway. Perhaps Hermann needs to dwell on driving and not think of anything at all. He knows he can’t go far with a Vespa, not far enough to where he wants to go. He also knows exactly where he would end up and that’s not fair to anyone involved. If Newt wants space, he can have his space. Newt can have a lifetime of space to feel what he needs to feel.

Maybe that was the problem all along, that he didn’t allow Newt the space he needed. He remembers confronting him in the lab, nearly begging him to consider building a life with him. They could have gone off to their separate lives and been no worse for it, but Hermann was too afraid of his own sorrow. In a way, he knows he was taking advantage of Newt’s love for him and he was alright with that, because it gave him the life he wanted and now that feels like it was all for nothing.

He stops the scooter abruptly, finds a place to pull over and collect himself as he tosses his helmet to the ground. He’s trespassing, he knows, pressed against the wall of some building’s back alley, but his world feels so narrow. Hermann cannot see the stars and he does not have Newt with him to fill in the blanks the stars have left behind. The city lights seem shallow as they pass by and there’s no more light shows with atrocious music, or songs strummed from beat up guitars. 

He’s hollowed out and he remembers why he only bothered to allow himself to fall in love once before. But that was different. That was a man who didn’t fundamentally understand him the way Newt does, who hadn’t been in his head. Taking a deep breath he wills away any thoughts of his softer emotions. It’s useless to think of them. Newt will come back eventually, he’s sure of it, and maybe they can talk then.

An ambulance blares by, breaking him out of his thoughts. He leans carefully to pick up the helmet from where it’s landed on the dirty ground, brushes off some dirt off of it, and puts it back on his head. He’s being a fool and he’s determined to stop this.

On the ride home, it starts to rain. When he returns to his building, he’s soaked through and shivering. He still takes the time to glance up at Newt’s window as he steps inside. There’s a light on.

 

The romantic option would be to sweep into Newt’s apartment and demand to speak to him immediately. Take him in his rain soaked arms and beg Newt to love him again, maybe beg him hard enough that it works. Again, this is foolish and making assumptions. He doesn’t know how Newt feels for once and needs to ask to know. He knows these feelings of abandonment, of love lost, are not confirmed, but they’re likely and it’s easier to imagine this and find out something more tender is the truth.

Instead of being the romantic hero he wants to be, Hermann returns to his apartment and strips out of his wet clothes. Leaves his coat over a wet chair to dry and hangs the remainder of his clothing over the edge of the tub until he’s ready to wash them. The light could have been something he’s imagined anyway. Newt cannot avoid him forever if he is home and Hermann wants Newt to come to him on his own terms for once. He owes him this, in a way, for thrusting himself on him so profoundly.

It’s not late enough to sleep, but Hermann changes into his night clothes and warms himself under his two duvets. He’s always got a book to keep him company, after all, and distract him from the prospect of rushing upstairs and making a scene. That’s the last thing either of them needs after what’s occurred between them. He falls asleep, sitting up in bed and reading, with his glasses still on his face. He dreams of Newt.

 

The decision of whether or not to go out of his way to see Newt is made for him when he slips into the elevator on his way to the grocery store the next day and Newt’s already in there. Hermann immediately colors deeply and Newt averts his eyes. It’s odd how little drama there is in the reunion.

“How was your father’s?” Hermann asks, staring down at the floor.

“Hermann-” Newt begins, but the ride is too short to say any more. They both step out of the elevator.

“Newton?” 

He turns to face Newt properly and something makes Newt take a step back. This is not the reaction he’s been hoping for after Newt ran away for a week.

“I’m sorry.”

“We can’t help the ways we feel,” Hermann explains, but it’s a hollow phrase now. “But you shouldn’t have ignored me for a week.”

“We should-” Newt takes a breath, it’s hollow and shaky and Hermann hates that he feels like this. “We should talk, right?”

The groceries can wait. Everything can wait.


	7. this little story will end so well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "This One's for You" by Ed Harcourt

Hermann leads Newt up to his apartment. They don’t look at each or talk on the way up, Newt just follows behind him. He doesn't bother asking where Newt was planning to go, if he needed to go so urgently, he'd have said so. Almost instinctively, Hermann makes tea while Newt waits on the couch to talk.

When he enters the living room, Newt's head is bowed in his hands and it looks like he's mouthing words, preparing something to say. He steps over with the tea and Newt looks up at him, accepting the mug wordlessly.

“It's hot,” Hermann comments. “Don't drink it until it's started to cool.”

For once Newt listens, holding the mug in both of his hands. Hermann seats himself at the opposite end of the couch. 

“I'm angry, Newton,” Hermann begins, because it's true and it's the easiest thing to say that he's feeling.

“I'm sorry?” Newt offers. It sounds genuine but confused.

“I was worried about you, that something had happened to you.”

“I couldn't do it, Hermann. I just couldn't- I couldn't stay.”

“Oh,” Hermann says softly and his heart feels like it's literally shattering to pieces.

“Is that all you have to say?” Newt says, and he suddenly sounds angry. “Oh?”

“What do you want me to say, Newton? I was disappointed, alright? Profoundly hurt and disappointed by the way you acted.”

“The way I acted?” he snaps, rising to his feet. “You're the one who invited me into your apartment!”

“What on earth are you on about, Newton? I'm still referring to the morning after. When you left me.”

Newt sinks back down and this time it's his turn to give the monosyllabic “oh” in response.

“You acted perfectly fine the night prior,” Hermann continues, even as he blushes. “I did invite you inside knowing full well what I wanted to occur. What did occur.”

“I was overwhelmed,” Newt confesses. “I didn't know how to handle anything that morning. I didn't know what was going to happen. I- I loved you so much.”

Hermann stiffens at the past tense and this time it's him that takes a mouthful of too hot tea. It burns. He hopes Newt can’t feel it the way he’s felt the phantom pains of so many mouthfuls of too warm coffee or tea over the past several months.

“I wish you had at least woken me to tell me you were leaving. I would have let you go, take your time to do what you needed to do.”

“It would have broken my heart, Herms. More than it was already. It was already too much to see you sleeping next to me to- to hold you in my arms. I'm sorry, fuck. I'm sorry I fell in love with you and fucked this up for us.”

“Newton- I- that's not a problem. Your feelings for me have never been a problem, we’ve had this conversation before. The fact that you left after we slept together and made it clear you wanted to end our relationship? That's not a problem, even if it hurts.”

“You said it was a point of no return, Hermann! I figured it was best to just end it then rather than keep drawing it out.”

“Drawing it out?”

“Listen, we both knew you were never going to fall in love with me. And that's okay, I'm glad I had the chance to be with you, it's almost worth throwing away a decade of our relationship. But we both know you only came up with this plan to pacify me and maybe make me love you a little bit less. I'm not stupid.” Newt shoots him a wry smile, like he's revealing his deepest secret.

“No, Newton, you're an utter moron.”

“Dude, I'm trying to be open and honest with you and you're insulting me.”

“I slept with you- Newton, I suppose I'm a moron as well. I've done everything in the wrong order.”

“Herms-”

“I'm in love with you.” 

There's silence for a few long moments and they both stare at each other. Neither knows what to say for a few long moments until it's Newt that breaks the silence.

“Oh my god, I am a moron.” Newt rather dramatically slaps his forehead. “I didn't even consider- can you say it again? So I can react appropriately?”

“I'm in love with you,” he repeats.

“About time,” Newt teases.

“Newton.”

“Okay, one more time, this time I'll get it right, I promise.”

“I'm not saying it again,” Hermann protests. “I'm still angry with you.”

“Well I'm mad at you for letting me think you didn't want to be with me. You could have told me.”

“I fully intended to, Newton, but you decided to leave before I had the chance to tell you. As I’d planned.”

“Oh, you’re a romantic sap. You planned. You thought it out, moment by moment ” Newt slides closer on the couch, it’s not subtle but Hermann really doesn’t mind.

“You’ve waited a long time! I didn’t want to tell you in the middle of sex.”

“That’s a fantastic time to tell someone you love them, if you really mean it.”

“I did really mean it. I do mean it. You put a lot of pressure on everything because you’ve waited for so long, so I had hoped this would be the one thing I attempt to put pressure on. I wanted to tell you that my whole heart, not just a fraction of it, is yours. And hopefully that was worth waiting a decade for.”

Hermann feels his heart racing in his chest, but he’s not sure if it’s really his own or Newt’s heartbeat that he’s experiencing.

“Now will you say it again?” Newt asks, moving even closer on the couch.

“I’m in love with you,” Hermann says for the third time.

This time the reaction is satisfactory for both of them, as Newt takes Hermann’s face in his hands and kisses him soundly. Hermann smiles into the kiss. How fortunate for him that he’s fallen in love with his best friend, with someone who understands him so completely. How fortunate that Newt loves him back, has loved him before he was even capable of loving Newt this way. How wonderful that he took a chance on this. He pulls away nonetheless. 

“But I can't trust you if you don't trust me,” Hermann adds. “I was…” He touches his mouth, still warm from the kiss. “I was wrong to not tell you before we slept together and I understand you were overwhelmed but you left without a word. I don't understand where in our interactions you developed the idea that I'd use you like that and I need to understand.”

Newt grimaces at that statement. Hermann hates seeing him make that face so shortly after they were kissing.

“I didn’t think you were using me. I thought you were trying to convince yourself you could like me, and that night was perfect but I didn’t know what I’d do if I got used to having that with you and had it taken away.”

“That happens in relationships, Newton. Even relationships you wait a decade for. You don’t get to run away because you’re afraid.”

“You and I both know that what we have is not like most other relationships.”

“Then you know you have no reason to be afraid, or to act on that fear.”

“Dude, I’m not afraid anymore.” Newt reaches for Hermann’s hand and clasps it in his own. “Partially because you’re here with me but also partially because my dad kept telling me I’m an idiot and that you weren’t going to abandon me no matter what. There are significantly worse things in the world than being just your friend. Or your colleague. Or your one night stand.”

“I don’t have one night stands, Newton.”

Newt shoots him a look over his glasses. Of course he knows this is not true. “Hopefully not anymore.”

Hermann rubs his thumb along the back of Newt’s hand. “Were you heading somewhere important before I saw you?”

“I was going to check on my Vespa, which some _ idiot _ must have taken for a joy ride last night, because it was gone when I got home but it was here this morning.”

Instead of humoring Newt with a response, he pulls him in for another kiss. This one’s a bit more heated than the last, he’s making his intentions fully clear. Newt’s startled for a moment, but he picks up the message loud and clear in a few moments.

 

“When did it happen?” Newt asks. “The falling in love thing?”

This would be a fairly easy question to answer if Newt wasn’t currently straddling Hermann and kissing down his neck as he asked it. Or naked. The naked part was, admittedly, a massive distraction for Hermann. He couldn’t quite process that there was a time when he wasn’t particularly sexually attracted to Newt, because now nothing else makes sense to him.

“You’re going to have to be more specific. I’m not an expert on matters of the heart-” He stops talking when Newt grazes his teeth against his neck, gasping out a moan, “but I do believe that falling in love is typically a process.”

“I knew from your third letter. You were so snarky and I just knew you were the only one for me.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Hermann answers, squeezing Newt’s hip. The skin is soft and he’s warm to the touch.

“Alright, I didn’t know until we’d been writing for some time, but you know this already. You were in my head. I haven’t been in your head once since you fell in love with me.”

“You were in the grocery store, trying to decide between two oranges. That was when I knew.”

Newt looks up at him, pauses to push his glasses further up his face. “I serenaded you, took you to dinner and on really romantic Vespa rides, and it was oranges that pushed you over the edge?”

“Newton, I love you but can you focus on the issue at hand here?” Hermann asks, and he knows exactly what effect his words will have.

“Mm, can you say that again?” Newt slides a hand down Hermann’s chest, teasing a nipple between his fingers.

“I love you.” Hermann slides up abruptly, collecting Newt in his arms, earning him both a gasp and a laugh. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” He punctuates each of these with a kiss, to his forehead, the corner of his mouth, his chin.

“Dude, I love you too,” Newt answers, suddenly breathless. 

Hermann realizes that this is only the second time Newt’s said it to him, and the first time that it’s meant what it means to him. It feels different, it feels like something settling into the deepest parts of him, so vastly different from the guilt he had felt only a few months prior at not returning Newt’s most tender feelings. He may not have loved him as long, but he loves him deeply. Will continue to love him, for at least a decade to make up for lost time, and then some more decades simply because he enjoys it.

Naturally the romance of the moment is altered by Newt rocking his hips.

“What do you want to do with me?” Hermann murmurs, nuzzling behind Newt’s ear.

“I can’t really choose a single fantasy, Herms. It’s been a long decade of thinking about you in a variety of compromising positions.”

Something about that sends a shiver of desire down Hermann’s spine. At first, he was uncomfortable with Newt acting on his desire for him, the potential of Newt thinking of him as he touched himself, or fantasizing about him. Now it seems gratifying and arousing in a strange way, even if it is intimidating to know reality can’t live up to fantasy.

“Thankfully you have a long time to live out all of them.”

“The clone one probably is a hard pass for you, though,” Newt says, teasing.

This seems almost deceptively easy, the teasing and talking even as they’re both stripped bare.

“Which of us is cloned in the scenario?” Hermann asks.

“You, of course.”

“Yes, that is what you’d consider a hard pass,” he says. “What would you do with only one of me?”

He wraps his hand around Newt’s cock, giving it two quick strokes. Newt rocks into the touch, insistent on more, which Hermann gladly gives.

“Fuck me, I mean for starters. Ideally I’d get to do you sometime within the next...twenty four hours, but I’m open to possibilities. Wait, does this mean you’d be down if it was a clone of-”

Hermann cuts him off abruptly with another kiss, smirking against his mouth as he does. Newt moans and parts his mouth to deepen the kiss, rocking his hips against Hermann. They continue to kiss for some time before breaking apart and Hermann leans over to his bedside drawer, pulling out the lube he keeps stashed there. Newt lays on his front with his head nestled in his arms, already eager to be touched.

Knowing he has all afternoon, all night, all of forever, Hermann takes his time. He kisses along Newt’s back as he fingers him open, whispering promises against his skin. This tickles Newt, makes him squirm a bit under his touch until Hermann has to hold him steady. He can only imagine what Newt will do with the knowledge of how easily a touch to the ribs can make Hermann squirm, can make him laugh. He doesn’t know what thrills him more, Newt touching him in new ways, or the fact that he doesn’t have to do it all at once because they have time.

When he’s content with his work, Newt peers up at him and looks flushed and eager. He sits up enough to push Hermann onto his back and moves to straddle him properly. For a moment, Hermann’s worried he’ll do something foolish to hurt himself, but they both take a few moments to adjust so they’re sitting comfortably.

Newt rises and lines himself up then, before slowly sinking down, taking Hermann in inch by inch. His mouth makes a sweet “o” of anticipation and he only audibly gasps once he’s bottomed out.

“How do you feel, dear?” Hermann asks, probably a bit too sweetly for the occasion.

“Full. Good. Happy.”

He grins at that, placing a firm hand on Newt’s hip to guide his movements. Neither of them will last long, Hermann suspects. But there’s time and that’s the most wonderful thing. They find a steady rhythm that works for them, punctuating the air with their breathing and words of gentle love and encouragement. Once, Newt gets too eager and Hermann’s cock slips out of him and they both laugh for a few long moments, this only prolongs the pleasure.

Hermann comes first, the sound of his release turning his voice into a whimper, a near soundless wonder. Newt’s hips move in staccato as he rocks harder, not wanting to be far behind in his pleasure and he spills over his own hand as stroking himself quickly, moments later. The sound he makes is high pitched, something like a noise of surprise, but significantly more beautiful. He waits only a few more moments before rolling off of Hermann, looking over at him with a grin.

“How was that, then?” Newt asks.

“You were amazing, darling,” Hermann states, returning the glance. “I’ll have to return the favor next time.”

This time, it’s Newt that rises from the bed and pads to the bathroom, granting Hermann some time to collect his breath. He plucks some tissues from his nightstand and wipes off his stomach. Sitting up, he looks around the room, where their clothes have been left in undignified piles on the floor. It feels right to have Newt’s clutter in this capacity here. The hard thing now, he suspects, will be pacing, keeping from asking Newt to move in or run away and elope with him. Perhaps love has given him a touch of the impulsive, which can be as dangerous as it is exciting. Perhaps this is a habit he's picked up from Newt.

Newt tilts his head when he re-emerges, clearly a look of admiration. Without a word, he slips under both of Hermann’s duvets, laying on his back. Hermann supposes a bit of rest wouldn’t hurt, he’s got nothing else so urgent in his life. His head ends up resting on Newt’s chest, with Newt rubbing soothingly at his neck, fingers trailing down the vertebrae of his spine as far as they can reach.

“You are incredible,” Newt remarks, pressing his mouth to the top of Hermann’s head. There’s far too many words in his mouth for it to be a kiss, but Hermann understands the sentiment.

“Is this in relation to what we just did or something else?”

“Everything, Herms.”

“I can say the same about you.”

His eyes drift shut, Hermann feels far too warm and far too pleased to consider staying awake. He reaches for Newt’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Newt’s humming and half singing some song he’s never heard against his head and he can feel the inescapable smile that’s tugging on Newt’s perfect, kiss swollen mouth. The song will become familiar in time, he realizes, in that time it will take to love Newt.  _ A lifetime _ , Hermann’s mind supplies as he drifts off. The rise and fall of Newt’s chest and the fact that the hum-singing has stopped betray that Newt’s already given into the call of sleep and he’s grateful for that.

Hours later when he stirs awake, Newt’s still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for giving this a read over the past...week? Week and a half? It's been a good and crazy ride. Beaucoup thanks to the lovely Trash Snakes for SCREAMING at me almost nightly about this so I got it done quickly.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!

**Author's Note:**

> Posting schedule will be approx every 2-3 days
> 
> tumblr @ pendragoff   
> twitter @ newtguzzler


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